A COTTAGE SCENE.
��I SAW a cradle at a cottage door, Where the fair mother, with her cheerful wheel, Carolled so sweet a song, that the young bird, Which, timid, near the threshold sought for seeds, Paused on its lifted foot, and raised its head, As if to listen. The rejoicing bees Nestled in throngs amid the woodbine cups That o'er the lattice clustered. A clear stream Came leaping from its sylvan height, and poured Music upon the pebbles, and the winds, Which gently 'mid the vernal branches played Their idle freaks, brought showering blossoms down, Surfeiting earth with sweetness.
Sad I came
From weary commerce with the heartless world ; But when I felt upon my withered cheek My mother Nature's breath, and heard the trump Of those gay insects at their honied toil, Shining like winged jewelry, and drank The healthful odour of the flowering trees
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