Of aiding some measure, Fame’s parchment to fill,—
By giving in song, or relating in story,
My love for that Cottage, which stood on the hill.
The rudely built Cottage, the old-fashioned Cottage,
The time-honored Cottage, that stood on the hill.
That time-honored Cottage—no dream or delusion—
For ’neath its old roof dwelt affection and friends;
The seat of contentment and quiet seclusion,
Where goodness found favor, and evil amends.
What would I give could I once more regain it,