File:Wessex (1906) (14592736257).jpg

Identifier: wessex00hollrich (find matches)
Title: Wessex
Year: 1906 (1900s)
Authors: Holland, Clive, 1866- Tyndale, Walter, 1855-1943
Subjects: Dorset (England) -- Description and travel
Publisher: London : Adam & Charles Black
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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e spell of winters rude magnificence. But its most beautiful aspect is when hoar-frost andsnow come, turning the bare into the clothed withits bridal garment of white, and its sparkling jewelsof rime ; making the hedgerows, though stripped offoliage, one exquisite fairy-like tracery of soft whiteness. Each blade of grass in the meadow is now a gemmedspear, brighter in the winter sunshine than any polishedlance of knight of old. Along the roadside witheredthistles and upstanding teasels are transformed intoexquisite clusters of sparkling gems and fairy diadems.On the uplands the gorse is rime-laden and beautiful,with the fretted webs of spiders like the exquisitetracery of rose-windows set in the shining walls ofsoms fairy palace. In the valley, white and glistening beneath itsmantle of hoar-frost, the little brooks are silent, and 244 BOCKHAMPTON BANK, NEAR DORCHESTERThe Mellstock Lane in Under the Greenwood Tree » » >\ > > 1» 1 I * » > >1 > I > > > >
Text Appearing After Image:
Winters Garment the river flows slowly, and looking the blacker for itsenvironing fringe of rime. Reeds and rushes, sedgeand weed, are jewelled by Natures profuse hand, andwinters beautiful garment enshrouds the land, valeand coppice and sloping pasture. On the great stretches of moor, which lie beneaththe winters sun glistening with the exquisite sheenof frosted silver, the pools which lay dull under thelowering sky now glint like blinking eyes at the way-farer, at night becoming steely mirrors under thepale-faced moon. Here and there a ruddy-breastedrobin, Christs bird, carols on a gorse twig, or fromthe naked branch of some storm-beaten tree ; but allthe other voices of Nature are still. But there is yet a fairer, purer beauty sometimes,when on moor and vale and coppice and hillsidewhite snow-flakes have floated, blotting out all uglythings, all angles of Natures architecture. Then itis a white world indeed that lies under the red wintersun—a world of snowy imagery beneath a mant

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