Scarcely a wish, but one bright pleasing thought,
A fancy in the heart of what might be
The lot of others, never could be his.
The station whence he looked was soft and green,
Not giddy yet aerial, with a depth 20
Of vale below, a height of hills above.
For rest of body, perfect was the spot,
All that luxurious nature could desire,
But stirring to the spirit. Who could gaze
And not feel motions there? He thought of clouds 25