Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees
With some uncertain notice, as might seem,
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, 20
Or of some hermit’s cave, where by his fire
The hermit sits alone.
Through a long absence have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man’s eye: 25
But oft, in lonely rooms, and ’mid the din