Tips the lone cottage on the rough hill-side.
They’re happy out at sea: I’m happy here:—
High on the moor, let me inhale
The beauteous waftings of the gale,
Or hear the mounting lark’s blithe sound,
Reverb’rating the blue profound—
In the ethereal main, free from all care!
I long to roam about those woods, wild grown,
Where birds, at leisure, chirp so sweet,
And now and then like mortals meet,