Each voice, each sound, each little stir that woke
The drowsy shadows. Now it was the rout
Of vagrant winds, and now a bird that broke
The trance with song up-brimming through the birch,
And now the boars disputing in their search
For mast beneath the oak.
I ran to find them at the dancing-green.
The grass had sprung untrampled by their feet.
Great oaks had fallen, and the copse between
Changed the smooth lawn. Each knoll and ivied seat