Fit dwelling for the feathered throng, And woods impervious to the breeze, Here stillness, height, and solemn shade Here nymphs from hollow oaks relate Fresh pastures speckled o'er with sheep, Brown fields their fallow sabbaths keep, Plump Ceres golden tresses wear, And poppy top-knots deck her hair, And silver streams through meadows stray, And Naïads on the margin play, 1 A WISH. BY ROGERS. MINE be a cot beside the hill; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Around my ivied porch shall spring The village-church, among the trees, Her poverty was glad; her heart content, Nor knew she what the spleen or vapour meant. Dryden. SONNET. BY CHARLES LAMB. METHINKS how dainty sweet it were, reclined As in those domes where Cæsars once bore sway Goldsmith. A WISH. BY ROGERS. MINE be a cot beside the hill; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Around my ivied porch shall spring The village-church, among the trees, Her poverty was glad; her heart content, Nor knew she what the spleen or vapour meant. Dryden. |