A Lodge in the New Forest

By William Sotheby

RHINEFIELD! as through thy solitude I rove,
Now lost amid the deep wood’s gloomy night,
Doubtful I trace a ray of glimmering light;
Now where some antique oak, itself a grove,
Spreads its soft umbrage o’er the sunny glade,
Stretched on its mossy roots at early dawn,
While o’er the furze with light bound leaps the fawn,
I count the herd that crops the dewy blade:
Frequent at eve list to the hum profound
That all around upon the chill breeze floats,
Broke by the lonely keeper’s wild, strange notes;
At distance followed by the browsing deer
Or the bewildered stranger’s plaintive sound
That dies in lessening murmurs on the ear.

You can read more about William Sotheby (1757-1833) here:


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s