Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
I. On Wilsons Picture of SolitudeEdmund Ollier (18271886)
A
A region of neglect and glimmering gloom,
Yet secretly unfolding many a bloom
Worthy of gardens,—to be denizen.
A pillared grotto once was in this glen,
And sculptured shapes; but see how hungry doom
Has gnawn them half away, while o’er them loom
Black branches, arching like a dusky den;
Between whose trunks you see, quite overbrowed
With intertwisted foliage, dark and drear,
White convent walls gleam like a parting ray
Under the forehead of a thunder-cloud;
And silently and sad, from year to year,
The cowled monk stagnates, withering away.