Groves darkly green, neat farms, and pastures gay
With golden flowers; brooks stealing over sand,
Or smooth-worn pebbles, murmuring light away;—
Blue rye-fields, yielding to the gentle hand
Of the cool west wind; scented fields of hay,
Falling in purple bloom!
Percival.
28. A pleasant aspect shall your parlor wear,—
Pictures, and busts, and books, and flowers,
And a light hearth where one may sit for hours,