 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
216
TOWN.
Enough of lanes, and trees, and valleys green,Enough of briary wood, and hot chalk-down;
I hate the startling quiet of the scene,
And long to hear the gay glad hum of town:
My garden be the garden of the Graces,
Flowers full of smiles, with Fashion for their queen,
My lanes and fields be crowds of joyous faces,
A trifle pleasanter than solitude,
Better than cultivating crops or weeds,
Or the dull company of rustics rude,
Whose only hopes are bound in clods and seeds:
Out on it! let me live in town delight,
And for your tedious country-mornings bright
Give me gay London with its noon and night.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |