LIV.
TO BURNET MORIER.
‘My business in this State
Made me a looker-on here in Vienna.’
Happy is he who on some wavelapt rock
Sits the long summer-day, nor counts it long;
And feels the far Atlantic's leaden shock,
And hums the rippled cadence of sweet song:—
Happy to whom in central forest vales
The golden moments golden memories bring;
Who blesses Life for Life itself, and hails
Greener each year the greenery of Spring.
But happier I who on long Swabian plains
O'er trembling heat-haze see Saint Stephen's shine;
Changing immediate Spring for deep-sore pains,
For wintry memories, Friendship proved as thine—
Delight by contrast-gloom delighting more,
Love's English welcome to a foreign shore.
