 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
217
COUNTRY.
Most tranquil, innocent, and happy life,Full of the holy joy chaste Nature yields,
Redeem'd from care, and sin, and the hot strife
That rings around the smoked unwholesome dome
Where mighty Mammon his black sceptre wields,—
Here let me rest in humble cottage home,
Here let me labour in the enamell'd fields:
How pleasant in these ancient woods to roam
With kind-eyed friend, or kindly-teaching book;
Or the fresh morning gallop on the downs;
Or at fair eventide with feather'd hook
To strike the swift trout in the pebbly brook;
Or, rescued from the smoke and din of towns,
Simply to live in my sweet country nook.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |