On the Ouse Here by the river, a solemn tread,
In hues of dusk where whispers rest;
The echoes linger on, though said,
In this gentle muse I find my best.

Cool breezes weave through the woven green,
Chasing shadows upon the ground;
Where every rustle of nature’s scene,
Brings solace as sweet thoughts abound.

• Dante Gabriel Rossetti