The Silent Woods
Oh, go to the silent woods!
The wild-thundering state as I vow;
The notes linger round like stunned,
As I welcome their bow — each brow
With headless song and full canopy,
To hold up the cries of despair;
I kneel there in sweet dim massivity
While the moor reaches as clouds in the bear.
— James Collinson
- James Collinson