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A POET'S STUDY.
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There too, in living, leafy pride,Another tree should grow,Whose writhed branches far and wideTheir welcome shade should throw.
Those boughs, by whisp'ring breezes stirr'd,My canopy should be;And every gentle whisper heardShould tell a tale to me.
A crystal brook should babble by,And to its bord'ring flowersImpart fresh loveliness of dye,And yet more fragrant powers.
Behind me, half conceal'd from sight,As shunning public view,The ivied church-tow'r's humble heightShould greet Heaven's vaulted blue.
A few low grassy mounds should tellWhere slept the silent dead;And there the modest heather-bellShould bend its graceful head.
A guileless infant too should strayWhere those blue flowers might wave,And cull, perchance, a posy gayFrom off a parent's grave.
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