(A fragment)

All sounds have been as music to my listening:
Pacific lamentations of slow bells,
The crunch of boots on blue snow rosy-glistening,
Shuffle of autumn leaves; and all farewells:

Bugles that sadden all the evening air,
And country bells clamouring their last appeals
Before [the] music of the evening prayer;
Bridges, sonorous under carriage wheels.

Gurgle of sluicing surge through hollow rocks,
The gluttonous lapping of the waves on weeds,
Whisper of grasses; the myriad-tinkling flocks,
The warbling drawl of flutes and shepherds' reeds.

Thrilling of throstles in the clear blue dawn,
Bees fumbling and fuming over sainfoin-fields.