Of fragrant pines, in solemn depths of shade
Finds rest, or 'mid the holly's shining leaves;
A simple bush, the piping Thrush contents,
Though in the woodland concert he aloft
Trills from his spotted throat a powerful strain,
And scorns the humble choir. The Lark too asks
A lowly dwelling hid beneath the turf,
A hollow trodden by the sinking hoof:
Songster of heaven! who to the sun such lays
Pours forth as earth ne'er owns. Within the hedge