 | Household Verses |  |
38
FARNHAM CASTLE.
A SONNET, TO JOHN BARTON.
My brother, those, methinks, were
pleasant hours,
It was our privilege to spend, erewhile,
In Farnham's ancient, castellated pile!
Lovely the landscape, from its lofty towers
Beheld at distance; while its garden bowers,
Below our feet, wore beauty's softest smile,
As if those cedars' grandeur to beguile,
Still looking down on lawns yet gay with flowers.
Nor lacked the scene within charms all its own,
To make the few brief hours pass swiftly by;
But, far as courteous hospitality
And genuine kindness could make welcome known,
Such, unaffectedly, were prompt, and prone
With each attraction out of doors to vie!
It was our privilege to spend, erewhile,
In Farnham's ancient, castellated pile!
Lovely the landscape, from its lofty towers
Beheld at distance; while its garden bowers,
Below our feet, wore beauty's softest smile,
As if those cedars' grandeur to beguile,
Still looking down on lawns yet gay with flowers.
Nor lacked the scene within charms all its own,
To make the few brief hours pass swiftly by;
But, far as courteous hospitality
And genuine kindness could make welcome known,
Such, unaffectedly, were prompt, and prone
With each attraction out of doors to vie!
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