Scarce the hardy primrose peeps From the dark dell's entangled steeps; While from the shrubbery's naked maze, Of Flora's brightest 'broidery shone, The beans their new-born ranks expand; The swallow, for a moment seen, Looks through the thin descending hail; Swarm the rooks with clamorous call; And to the toils of nature true, 295 Wreath their capacious nests anew. Within some whispering osier isle, The fisher seeks his 'custom'd nook; And bursting through the crackling sedge, O'er the broad downs, a novel race, The foss that skirts the beacon'd hill. His free-born vigor, yet unbroke, While far beneath, where Nature spreads A thousand tumbling rills inlay Be your title what it may, Soft as Memnon's harp at morning, To the inward ear devout, Touch'd by light with heavenly warning, Your transporting chords ring out. Every wave in every brook, Needs no show of mountain hoary, Winding shore or deepening glen, Where the landscape in its glory, Teaches truth to wandering men. Give true hearts but earth and sky, And some flowers to bloom and die; Homely scenes and simple views, Lowly thoughts may best infuse. See the soft green willow springing O'er the moss and reedy grass. Though the rudest hand assail her, But when showers and breezes hail her, Wears again her willing smile. Thus I learn Contentment's power From the slighted willow bower, Ready to give thanks and live, On the least that Heaven may give. If, the quiet brooklet leaving, |