by Elizabeth Bentley
HOW fresh the gentle vernal breeze,
That softly moves the stately trees,
Time-hallowed elms, which clustering meet,
To form a canopy complete;
A path of mingling light and shade,
Beneath the waving branches made.
Here Friendship undisturb'd may range,
And soul-exalting thoughts exchange;
Here peaceful Solitude invites,
To aid young Fancy's heav'nly flights;
Here to indulge the sacred muse,
Or oft the improving page peruse,
On Meditation's pinion soar,
And brighter worlds unseen explore;
Or in the heart some deed to plan,
Fraught with benevolence to man.
Sure these are joys the blest must prove,
In regions of immortal love;
At least the contemplative mind,
While to its earthly shell confin'd,
Tho' taught Heav'n's glories to believe,
No purer transports can conceive.
Last updated January 14, 2019