'Tis shadow'd by the tulip-tree, 'tis mantled by the vine;
The wild plum sheds its yellow fruit from fragrant thickets nigh,
And flowery prairies from the door stretch till they meet the sky.
Bryant.
8. Beside a public way,
Thick strewn with summer dust, and a great stream
Of people hurrying to and fro.
Shelley.
9. Crowning a gradual hill, your mansion swells
In ancient English grandeur; turrets, spires,