SAMUEL ROGERS 1763–1855 586 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.
CHARLES LAMB 1775–1834 587 The Old Familiar Faces
I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days— All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have been laughing, I have been carousing, Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies— All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
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