Page:Poems Mitford.djvu/41

A nameless, winding streamlet there,
Midst shaggy copse-wood glist'ning fair;
While shelt'ring trees behind it rise,
And mountains tow'ring to the skies:
In such a cot what bliss to dwell
With those dear friends I lov'd so well!
And still is childhood's happy dream
Of youth's romantic wish, the theme;
No cot to me so fair appears,
As that my glowing fancy rears,
And, e'en 'mid Berkshire's woody vales,
I sigh for Devon's balmy gales.

 With lofty tales of feudal power
Would Zosia charm the ling'ring hour,
Describe her father's princely dome,
The splendors of her native home;
The slaves, that follow'd where she trod,
And swift obey'd her slightest nod;