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How brightly glistening in the
sun
The woodland ivy plays!
While yonder beeches from
their barks
Reflect his silver rays.
That sun surveys a lovely
scene
From softly smiling skies;
And wildly through unnumbered
trees
The wind of winter sighs:
Now loud, it thunders o'er
my head,
And now in distance dies.
But give me back my barren
hills
Where colder breezes rise;
Where scarce the scattered,
stunted trees
Can yield an answering swell,
But where a wilderness of
heath
Returns the sound as well.
For yonder garden, fair and
wide,
With groves of evergreen,
Long winding walks, and
borders trim,
And velvet lawns between;
Restore to me that little
spot,
With gray walls compassed
round,
Where knotted grass neglected
lies,
And weeds usurp the ground.
Though all around this mansion
high
Invites the foot to roam,
And though its halls are
fair within--
Oh, give me back my HOME! |
