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 | Miscellanies (1785) |  |
Yes, 'tis the heart, my friend, which rules the eye,
And turns a gloomy to a cloudless sky;
The soft magician governs ev'ry scene,
Blossoms the rock, or desolates the green;
Along the heath bids fancied roses blow,
And sunshine rise upon a world of snow.
Yes, 'tis the heart endears each smiling plain,
Or to his native mountain binds the swain;
His native mountain where his cottage stands,
More lov'd, more dear, than all the neighb'ring lands;
For tho' the blast be keen, the soil be bare,
His friends, his wife, his little ones are there.
And turns a gloomy to a cloudless sky;
The soft magician governs ev'ry scene,
Blossoms the rock, or desolates the green;
Along the heath bids fancied roses blow,
And sunshine rise upon a world of snow.
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Or to his native mountain binds the swain;
His native mountain where his cottage stands,
More lov'd, more dear, than all the neighb'ring lands;
For tho' the blast be keen, the soil be bare,
His friends, his wife, his little ones are there.
| Miscellanies (1785) | |