PASTORALS

How sweet on sunny afternoons,

For those who journey light and well,

To loiter up a hilly rise

Which hides the prospect far beyond,

And fancy all the landscape lying

Beautiful and still;

Beneath a sky of summer blue,

Whose rounded cloudlets, folded soft,

Gaze on the scene which we await

And picture from their peacefulness;

So calmly to the earth inclining

Float those loving shapes!

Like airy brides, each singling out

A spot to love and bless with love,

Their creamy bosoms glowing warm,

Till distance weds them to the hills,

And with its latest gleam the river

Sinks in their embrace.

And silverly the river runs,

And many a graceful wind he makes,

By fields where feed the happy flocks,

And hedge-rows hushing pleasant lanes,

The charms of English home reflected

In his shining eye:

Ancestral oak, broad-foliaged elm,

Rich meadows sunned and starred with flowers,

The cottage breathing tender smoke

Against the brooding golden air,

With glimpses of a stately mansion

On a woodland sward;

And circling round, as with a ring,

The distance spreading amber haze,

Enclosing hills and pastures sweet;

A depth of soft and mellow light

Which fills the heart with sudden yearning

Aimless and serene!

No disenchantment follows here,

For nature's inspiration moves

The dream which she herself fulfils;

And he whose heart, like valley warmth,

Steams up with joy at scenes like this

Shall never be forlorn.

And O for any human soul

The rapture of a wide survey -

A valley sweeping to the West,

With all its wealth of loveliness,

Is more than recompense for days

That taught us to endure.