And in the frosty season, when the sun
Was set, and visible for many a mile
The cottage lights through the twilight air
Were gleaming, and I heard the village bell
Tolling among the solitary hills;
Not seldom from the uproar I retired
Into a silent bay, or sportively
Glanced sidelong, leaving the tumultuous throng,
To cut across the reflex of a star
That fled, and, flying still before me, gleamed
Upon the glassy plain...