"At noon, or when the lesser wain[72]
Is twisting round the polar star;"--
also when the sailing moon's reflection in the water becomes broken into
silver arrows.[73]
All this will go on, until garden and wild become familiar to the
succeeding stranger:
"And year by year our memory fades
From all the circle of the hills."
Future generations will nevertheless visit Somersby, with something of the
reverence that still attracts the stranger to Stratford-on-Avon.