The Scouring of the White Horse

“OLD AND NEW. See how the Autumn leaves float by, decaying, Down the red whirls of yon rain-swollen stream; So fleet the works of men, back to their earth again; Ancient and holy things fade like a dream. Nay! see the Spring blossoms steal forth a-maying, Clothing with tender buds orchard and glen; So, though old forms go by, ne’er can their spirit die. Look! England’s bare boughs show green leaf again. Kingsley.”