IX. Rooks: New College Gardens

Through rosy cloud and over thorny towers, Their wings with darkling autumn distance filled, From Isis' valley border, many-hilled, The rooks are crowding home as evening lowers: Not for men only, and their musing hours By battled walls did gracious Wykeham build These dewy spaces early sown and stilled, These dearest inland melancholy bowers. Blest birds! A book held open on the knee Below, is all they guess of Adam's blight: With surer art the while, and simpler rite, They gather power in some monastic tree Where breathe against their docile breasts by night The scholar's star, the star of sanctity.