The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood

PART II.

The Scene is changed! No green Arcade, No Trees all ranged a-row-- But scatter'd like a beaten host, Dispersing to and fro; With here and there a sylvan corse, That fell before the foe.

The Foe that down in yonder dell Pursues his daily toil; As witness many a prostrate trunk, Bereft of leafy spoil, Hard by its wooden stump, whereon The adder loves to coil.