This Poem would describe a calm and quiet day in October--late autumn.
No doubt, the scenery described _does not refer to Clevedon, but to some
Lincolnshire wold, from which the whole range from marsh to the sea was
visible_.
The stillness of the spot is just broken by the sound of the horse
chestnut falling[14] through the dead leaves, and these are reddening to
their own fall. No time of the year is more quiet, not even is the insect
abroad: the waves just swell and fall noiselessly, and this reminds him of
"The dead calm in that noble breast
Which heaves but with the heaving deep."