AT FURNESS ABBEY
HERE, where, of havoc tired and rash undoing, Man left this Structure to become Time’s prey A soothing spirit follows in the way That Nature takes, her counter-work pursuing. See how her Ivy clasps the sacred Ruin Fall to prevent or beautify decay; And, on the mouldered walls, how bright, how gay, The flowers in pearly dews their bloom renewing! Thanks to the place, blessings upon the hour; Even as I speak the rising Sun’s first smile 10 Gleams on the grass-crowned top of yon tall Tower Whose cawing occupants with joy proclaim Prescriptive title to the shattered pile Where, Cavendish, ‘thine’ seems nothing but a name! 1844.