To make him Nature's playmate. He knows well The evening star: and once when he awoke In most distressful mood (some inward pain And he beholds the moon, and hush'd at once Should give me life, his childhood shall grow up Sweet Nightingale! once more, my friends! farewell. THE FEMALE VAGRANT. By Derwent's side my Father's cottage stood, One field, a flock, and what the neighbouring flood A dizzy depth below! his boat and twinkling oar. My father was a good and pious man, To lisp, he made me kneel beside my bed, Can I forget what charms did once adorn My garden, stored with pease, and mint, and thyme, From far to meet me came, spreading their snowy pride. The staff I yet remember which upbore When the bees hummed, and chair by winter fire; With which, though bent on haste, myself I deck'd; When stranger passed, so often I have check'd; The red-breast known for years, which at my casement peck'd. The suns of twenty summers danced along,— He loved his old hereditary nook, And ill could I the thought of such sad parting brook. |