Which comes to steal away the long sweet light,—
No sighs of sad humanity are here.
Here is no tint of mortal change—the day,—
Beneath whose light the dog and peasant boy
Gambol, with look, and almost bark, of joy—
Still seems, though centuries have passed, to stay;
Then gaze again, that shadow’d scenes may teach
Lessons of peace and love, beyond all speech.
Bowles.
There is a land of pure delight,