Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 1.djvu/162

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Should bound mine eyes; aye and my wishes too,For I would have no hope or fear beyond.The empty turmoil of the worthless world,Its vanities and vices would not vexMy quiet heart. The traveller, who beheldThe low tower of the little pile, might deemIt were the house of God: nor would he errSo deeming, for that home would be the homeOf Peace and Love, and they would hallow itTo Him. Oh life of blessedness! to reapThe fruit of honourable toil, and boundOur wishes with our wants! delightful ThoughtsThat sooth the solitude of maniac Hope,Ye leave her to reality awak'd,Like the poor captive, from some fleeting dreamOf friends and liberty and home restor'd,Startled, and listening as the midnight stormBeats hard and heavy thro' his dungeon bars.1796.
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