SELWORTHY.
WRITTEN UNDER A SKETCH OF SIR THOMAS ACLAND'S COTTAGES
FOR THE POOR.
I
A gentle Muse was hovering o'er
The wide wide world, and looking long
For a pleasant spot where a Muse might pour
To the wood or the wave her liquid song;
And “Who,” said she, “of the kind and free—
Who will open his gate for me?”
II
“Come hither,” said Wealth, “to my crowded mart,
Where splendour dazzles the gazer's eye,
Where the sails approach and the sails depart
With every breath of the summer sky:”
“Oh no,” said she; “by the shore of the sea
Wealth has no room in his store for me!”
III
“Come hither,” said War, “to my moated tower;
Danger and Death have walked the plain;
But the arrowy sleet of the iron shower
Beats on these stubborn walls in vain:”
“Oh no,” said she,—“there is blood on the key;
War shall not open a lock for me!”
IV
“Come hither,” said Love, “to my rosy dell,
Where nothing of grief or care has birth;
Rest in my bower, where sweet dreams dwell,
Making a Heaven—a Heaven of earth.”
“Oh no,” said she; “at his trysting-tree
Love is too happy to think of me!”
V
And she lifted at last the humble latch
And entered in at a lowly door;
For Charity there had spread the thatch
O'er the peaceful roof of the sick and poor.
And “Here,” said she, “my rest shall be;
Here is a home and a theme for me.”
August 7, 1830.
