ODE
To the River Darwent.
Lov’d stream, that meanders along,
Where the steps of my infancy stray’d;
When first I attun’d the rude song,
That nature all artless essay’d.
Though thy borders be stripp’d of each tree,
That smil’d in their vernal array;
Their image still pictures to me,
Thy villagers gambolling gay.
Nor by fancy shall aught be unseen,