The spacious open vale, the vale of doom, br Is full of autumn sunset; blue and strong br The semicirque of water sweeps among br Her lofty acres, each a martyr's tomb; br And slowly, slowly, melt into the gloom br Two little idling clouds, that look for long br Like roseleaf bodies of two babes in song br Correggio left to flush a convent room. br br Dear hill deflowered in the frantic war! br In my day, rather, have I seen thee blest br With pastoral roofs to break the darker crest br Of apple-woods by many-islèd Loire, br And fires that still suffuse the lower west, br Blanching the beauty of thine evening star.