The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson including many pieces never before published. In Three Volumes |
 | I. |
 | II. |
MY NATIVE HOME. |
| III. |
 | The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson |  |
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MY NATIVE HOME.
O'er breezy hill and woodland glade,
At morning's dawn or closing day,
In summer's flaunting pomp array'd,
Or pensive moonlight's silver grey,
The wretch in sadness still shall roam
Who wanders from his native home.
At morning's dawn or closing day,
In summer's flaunting pomp array'd,
Or pensive moonlight's silver grey,
The wretch in sadness still shall roam
Who wanders from his native home.
While at the foot of some old tree,
As meditation soothes his mind,
Lull'd by the hum of wand'ring bee,
Or rippling stream, or whisp'ring wind,
His vagrant fancy still shall roam,
And lead him to his native home.
As meditation soothes his mind,
Lull'd by the hum of wand'ring bee,
Or rippling stream, or whisp'ring wind,
His vagrant fancy still shall roam,
And lead him to his native home.
Though Love a fragrant couch may weave,
And Fortune heap a festive board,
Still Mem'ry oft would turn to grieve,
And Reason scorn the splendid board;
While he, beneath the proudest dome,
Would languish for his native home.
And Fortune heap a festive board,
Still Mem'ry oft would turn to grieve,
And Reason scorn the splendid board;
While he, beneath the proudest dome,
Would languish for his native home.
351
To him the rushy roof is dear,
And sweetly calm the darkest glen;
While noise, and pomp, and pow'r, appear,
At best, the glitt'ring plagues of men;
Unsought by those who never roam,
Forgetful of their native home.
And sweetly calm the darkest glen;
While noise, and pomp, and pow'r, appear,
At best, the glitt'ring plagues of men;
Unsought by those who never roam,
Forgetful of their native home.
Let me to summer shades retire,
With meditation and the Muse;
Or round the social winter fire
The glow of temper'd mirth diffuse:
Though winds may howl and waters roam,
I still shall bless my native home.
With meditation and the Muse;
Or round the social winter fire
The glow of temper'd mirth diffuse:
Though winds may howl and waters roam,
I still shall bless my native home.
| The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson | |