And lightly shade the roof with leafy spray.
There let no yew its baleful shadow cast,
Nor crabs on glowing embers taint the blast.
Far from their roof deep fens that poison breathe,
Thick fogs that float from bed of mud beneath,
Caves from whose depth redoubled echoes rise,
And rock on rock in circling shout replies.
Now when the sun beneath the realms of night
Dark winter drives, and robes the heavens with light.
The bees o’er hill and dale, from flow’r to flow’r,