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Jane Eyre

Leaning over,
Looking far down,
The grounds laid out like a map.

The velvet lawn,
They grey base of the mansion,
The field, the wood,
Divided by a path.

The church at the gates,
The road,
The tranquil hills,
All reposing in the autumn sun

The horizon,
By a propitious sky,
Marbled with pearly white.

No feature was extraordinary,
But all was pleasing.

Author notes

I wrote this as a "found poem" from the book Jane Eyre...

    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
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