Where health and plenty cheer’d the labouring swain,

Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,

And parting summer’s lingering blooms delay’d—

delay’d—

33

Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,

Seats of my youth, when every sport could please—

please—

How often have I loiter’d o’er thy green,

Where humble happiness endear’d each scene;

How often have I paus’d on every charm—

charm—

The shelter’d cot, the cultivated farm,

The never-failing brook, the busy mill,

The decent church that topp’d the neighbouring hill,

The hawthorn-bush, with seats beneath the shade,

For talking age and whispering lovers made;

How often have I bless’d the coming day,

When toil remitting lent its turn to play,

And all the village train, from labour free,

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