Casting the body’s vest aside
My soul into the boughs does glide:
There, like a bird, it sits and sings,
Then whets and claps its silver wings,
And, till prepared for longer flight,
Waves in its plumes the various light.”
And this other bit, from his “Appleton House” (Nuneaton), still more full of rural spirit:
“How safe, methinks, and strong behind
These trees, have I encamped my mind,
Where beauty aiming at the heart