Free of the caves of the lofty Helvellyn,
Who is up in the sunshine when we are in shower,
And could reach our loved ocean in less than an hour?
Or a stork on a mosque’s broken pillar in peace,
By some famous old stream in the bright land of Greece;
A sweet-mannered householder! waiving his state
Now and then, in some kind little toil for his mate?
Or a heath bird, that lies on the Cheviot moor,
Where the wet, shining earth is as bare as the floor;
Who mutters glad sounds, though his joys are but few—