THOU windest not through scenery which enchants The gazer's eye with much of grand or fair; Yet on thy margin many a wandering pair Have found that peaceful pleasure nature grants To those who seek her in her humbler haunts, And love and prize them, because she is there: May I then, now the setting sunbeam slants Upon thy bosom, in those pleasures share? Thanks unto Nature, she hath left me yet Some of those better feelings which were born In childhood: may their influence never set; But may it be as gradually withdrawn, As yon sun's beams from thee; chiding regret By the bright promise of a cloudless morn. |