THE BROAD WALK.
NOW, on with gladsome step I wend my way
By Merton's Gothic tower, grown old and grey;—
The Autumn air is blowing fresh and sweet,
As from the distant hills we thus it meet.
Oft 'neath thy lofty elm trees' silent shade,
I've watched the sear and yellow leaves fast fade;
Oft have I wandered 'neath thy verdant groves,
And by thy classic stream, that memory loves,
Where dewy eve looks down with weeping eye,
And stars hang trembling in the twilight sky!—
Where, in the distance, all thy noble spires
Stand proudly forth, illumined by the fires
Of the fast-sinking sun, whose last faint ray,
With a thousand fancies brightly play!
Oxford! though thy fond groves I see no more,
Yet, I'll love thee still for the days of yore.
Oft in my walks I seem to see again
Thy spires and towers! Oh! dreams so fair and vain,
Ye linger like the perfume round the flower,
Too rudely snatched from her fair forest bower.
Forgive me if in every grove I trace
Some fancied scenes of that dear ancient place;
Musing, as I speed upon my quiet way,
On earthly things and their too fast decay.
By Merton's Gothic tower, grown old and grey;—
The Autumn air is blowing fresh and sweet,
As from the distant hills we thus it meet.
Oft 'neath thy lofty elm trees' silent shade,
I've watched the sear and yellow leaves fast fade;
Oft have I wandered 'neath thy verdant groves,
And by thy classic stream, that memory loves,
Where dewy eve looks down with weeping eye,
And stars hang trembling in the twilight sky!—
Where, in the distance, all thy noble spires
Stand proudly forth, illumined by the fires
Of the fast-sinking sun, whose last faint ray,
With a thousand fancies brightly play!
Oxford! though thy fond groves I see no more,
Yet, I'll love thee still for the days of yore.
Oft in my walks I seem to see again
Thy spires and towers! Oh! dreams so fair and vain,
Ye linger like the perfume round the flower,
Too rudely snatched from her fair forest bower.
Forgive me if in every grove I trace
Some fancied scenes of that dear ancient place;
Musing, as I speed upon my quiet way,
On earthly things and their too fast decay.