The Grave of Grislehurst Boggart.
Thought-wrapt, he wandered in the breezy woods,
In which the summer, like a hermit, dwelt:
He laid him down by the old haunted springs
Up-bubbling, 'mid a world of greenery,
Shut-eyed, and dreaming of the fairest shapes
That roam the woods.
—Alexander Smith.
Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares,