I see the groves of that elected land
Which is the place I call my paradise.
V.
But what is this? The plains are known to me;
The hills are known, the fields, the little fence,
The noisy brook as clear as innocence,
And this old oak, the wonder of the lea,
Which stops the wind to know if there shall be
Sorrow for men, or pride, or recompense.
VI.