In white array, disguising to the view;
Objects well known, now faintly recognized;
One color clothes the mountain and the plain,
Save where the feathery flakes melt as they fall
Upon the deep blue stream, or scowling lake,
Or where some beetling rock o’er jutting hangs
Above the vaulty precipice’s cove.
Formless, the pointed cairn now scarce o’ertops
The level dreary waste; and coppice woods,
Diminished of their height, like bushes seem.