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Poem by Ebenezer Elliott


Cloudless Stanage


WHY, shower-loved Derwent! have the rainbows left thee?
Mam-Tor! Win-Hill! a single falcon sails
Between ye; but no airy music wails.
Who, mountains! of your soft hues hath bereft ye,
And stolen the dewy freshness of your dales?
Dove-stone! thy cold drip-drinking fountain fails;
Sun-darkened shadows, motionless, are on ye;
Silence to his embrace of fire hath won ye;
And light, as with a shroud of glory, veils
The Peak and all his marvels. Slowly trails
One streak of silver oТer the deep dark blue
Its feathery stillness, while of whispered tales
The ash, where late his quivering shade he threw,
Dreams oТer the thoughtful plant that hoards its drop of dew.



Ebenezer Elliott


Ebenezer Elliott's other poems:
  1. The Maltby Yews
  2. Roch Abbey
  3. Don and Rother
  4. Win-Hill
  5. Plumpton


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