How do I love on summer night
⁠To sit within this Norman door,
Whose sombre portal hides the light,
⁠Thickening above me evermore.

How do I love to hear the flow
⁠Of Aspin's water murmuring low,
And hours long listen to the breeze
⁠That sighs in Beckden's waving trees.

To-night there is no wind to wake
⁠One ripple in the lovely lake;
To-night the clouds, subdued and grey,
⁠Starlight and moonlight shut away.

'Tis calm and still and almost drear,
⁠So utter is the solitude;
But still I love to linger here,
⁠And form my mood to Nature's mood.

There's a wild walk beneath the rocks
⁠Following the bend of Aspin's side,
Tis worn by feet of mountain-flocks
⁠That wander down to drink the tide.