A Wish (Rogers)

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For works with similar titles, see A Wish.

    Mine be a cot beside the hill;
      A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear;
    A willowy brook that turns a mill
      With many a fall shall linger near.

    The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch
      Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;
    Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,
      And share my meal, a welcome guest.

    Around my ivied porch shall spring
      Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;
    And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing
      In russet gown and apron blue.

    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.