Here you will find the Poem Avenue In Savernake Forest of poet William Lisle Bowles
How soothing sound the gentle airs that move The innumerable leaves, high overhead, When autumn first, from the long avenue, That lifts its arching height of ancient shade, Steals here and there a leaf! Within the gloom, In partial sunshine white, some trunks appear, Studding the glens of fern; in solemn shade Some mingle their dark branches, but yet all, All make a sad sweet music, as they move, Not undelightful to a stranger's heart. They seem to say, in accents audible, Farewell to summer, and farewell the strains Of many a lithe and feathered chorister, That through the depth of these incumbent woods Made the long summer gladsome. I have heard To the deep-mingling sounds of organs clear, (When slow the choral anthem rose beneath), The glimmering minster, through its pillared aisles, Echo;--but not more sweet the vaulted roof Rang to those linked harmonies, than here The high wood answers to the lightest breath Of nature. Oh, may such sweet music steal, Soothing the cares of venerable age, From public toil retired: may it awake, As, still and slow, the sun of life declines, Remembrances, not mournful, but most sweet; May it, as oft beneath the sylvan shade Their honoured owner strays, come like the sound Of distant seraph harps, yet speaking clear! How poor is every sound of earthly things, When heaven's own music waits the just and pure!