I dwell in groves that gilt are with the sun; Sit on the banks by which clear waters run; In summers hot down in a shade I lie; My music is the buzzing of a fly; I walk in meadows, where grows fresh green grass; In fields where corn is high, I often pass; Walk up the hills, where round I prospects see, Some brushy woods, and some all champaigns be; Returning back, I in fresh pastures go, To hear how sheep do bleat, and cows do low; In winter cold, when nipping frosts come on, Then I do live in a small house alone; Although 'tis plain, yet cleanly 'tis within, Like to a soul that's pure and clear from sin; And there I dwell in quiet and still peace, Not fill'd with cares how riches do increase; I wish nor seek for vain and fruitless pleasures; No riches are, but what the mind intreasures. Thus am I solitary, live alone, Yet better lov'd the more that I am known; And though my face ill-favour'd at first sight, After acquaintance, it will give delight. Refuse me not, for I shall constant be; Maintain your credit and your dignity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CATARINA TO CAMOENS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING OFF THE GROUND by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE RAIN-SONGS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR REBECCA'S HYMN, FR. IVANHOE by WALTER SCOTT LONDON SURVEYED AND ILLUSTRATED by JOHANNEM ADAMUS SONNET by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |