text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id "Behold that vale, whose sides are cloth'd with wood;
And here and there a pleasurable spot
Of intersected pasture, with its stack,
Cottage and lodge, few sheep, and grazing cow:
Mark how it mellows as it steals away,
And mingles fainter shadows, softer woods.
How gracefully it parts, and winds along,
To leave that rising ground, on whose fresh top
Above the green enclosures stands a Church,
Which smiles with glory in the ev'ning sun,
And seems to love the prospect it adorns.
Behold behind it, as the vale recedes
And falls into a flat the eye scarce sees,
A family of hills, some near, some far,
Withdrawing till their faint expiring tops
Are almost lost, and melted into air.
Is it not lovely? Is it not divine?
And yet, my heart, within thy silent cell
Dwells a fair image which is lovelier still.
",2009-09-14 19:45:56 UTC,"""And yet, my heart, within thy silent cell / Dwells a fair image which is lovelier still.""",2005-08-16 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Rooms,•I've included twice: Cell and Image,"Searching ""heart"" and ""cell"" in HDIS (Poetry)",16171,6126