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Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College | The Poetry Foundation

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Ye distant spires, ye antique tow'rs, That crown the wat'ry glade, Where grateful Science still adores Her Henry's holy Shade; And ye, that from the stately brow Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowr's among Wanders the hoary…

Share Ye distant spires, ye antique tow'rs, That crown the wat'ry glade, Where grateful Science still adores Her Henry's holy Shade; And ye, that from the stately brow Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowr's among Wanders the hoary Thames along His silver-winding way. Ah, happy hills, ah, pleasing shade, Ah, fields belov'd in vain, Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales, that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to

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