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How brightly glistening in the sun

     The woodland ivy plays!

While yonder beeches from their barks

     Reflect his silver rays.

That sun surveys a lovely scene

     From softly smiling skies;

And wildly through unnumbered trees

     The wind of winter sighs:

Now loud, it thunders o'er my head,

     And now in distance dies.

But give me back my barren hills

     Where colder breezes rise:

Where scarce the scattered, stunted trees

     Can yield an answering swell,

But where a wilderness of heath

     Returns the sound as well.

For yonder garden, fair and wide,

     With groves of evergreen,

Long winding walks, and borders trim,

     And velvet lawns between;

Restore to me that little spot,

     With gray walls compassed round,

Where knotted grass neglected lies,

     And weeds usurp the ground.

Though all around this mansion high

     Invites the foor to roam,

And though the halls are fair within—

     Oh, give me back my home!