“Hence let me haste into the midwood shade,
And on the dark green grass, beside the brink
Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak
Rolls o’er the rocky channel, lie at large.”
When study pales my visage, and I feel
Oppressive languor chaining heart and brain,
Away from toil and books I often steal,
Exploring haunts where Quiet holdeth reign.
I love the wild, the picturesque—and when
Her nest of moss the roving linnet weaves,