IN HORTO REV. J. STILL,

By William Lisle Bowles

Stranger! a while beneath this aged tree

Rest thee, the hills beyond, and flowery meads,

Surveying; and if Nature's charms may wake

A sweet and silent transport at thine heart,

In spring-time, whilst the bee hums heedless nigh,

Rejoice! for thee the verdant spot is dressed,

Circled with laurels green, and sprinkled o'er

With many a budding rose: the shrubs all ring

To the birds’ warblings, and by fits the air

Whispers amid the foliage o'er thine head!

Rejoice, and oh! if life's sweet spring be thine,

So gather its brief rose-buds, and deceive

The cares and crosses of humanity.