Chapter 475 of 1964 · 61 words · ~1 min read

XXVII.

He saw his white walls shining in the sun, His garden trees all shadowy and green; He heard his rivulet's light bubbling run, The distant dog-bark; and perceived between The umbrage of the wood, so cool and dun, The moving figures, and the sparkling sheen Of arms (in the East all arm)--and various dyes Of coloured garbs, as bright as butterflies.