MINE be a cot beside the hill; The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, Around my ivy'd porch shall spring The village-church, among the trees, Where first our marriage-vows were given With merry peals shall swell the breeze, And point with taper spire to heaven. TO TWO SISTERS.* 1795. WELL may you sit within, and, fond of grief, Changed is that lovely countenance, which shed Those lips so pure, that moved but to persuade, Yet has she fled the life of bliss below, And now in joy she dwells, in glory moves! On the death of a younger sister. A FAREWELL. ADIEU! A long, a long adieu! The sweet expression of that face, Ah Yet give me, give me, ere I go, -Say, when, to kindle soft delight, A sigh so short, and yet so sweet? O say-but no, it must not be. |