Still I see, through leafy casements, Wytham Hall so quaint and old, Remnant of the age of gold, Gabled o'er from roof to basement In most fanciful enlacement, Looking far o'er wood and wold; With the mere outspread before it; Whitest swans upon its tide, That in mystic beauty glide; And the wild fowl flapping o'er it, To the reeds that broadly shore it, Spear-like, on the sunny side.

I took the spear-like lever, and gave the gate a little push, so that it opened.

We dare not bask in the sun's genial beams Drawn to that spear-like point.

Dark, spear-like clouds rose above it and menaced the east.