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How
brightly
glistening
in
the
sun
The
woodland
ivy
plays!
While
yonder
beeches
from
their
barks
Reflect
his
silver
rays.
That
sun
surveys
a
lovely
scene
From
softly
smiling
skies;
And
wildly
through
unnumbered
trees
The
wind
of
winter
sighs:
Now
loud,
it
thunders
o'er
my
head,
And
now
in
distance
dies.
But
give
me
back
my
barren
hills
Where
colder
breezes
rise:
Where
scarce
the
scattered,
stunted
trees
Can
yield
an
answering
swell,
But
where
a
wilderness
of
heath
Returns
the
sound
as
well.
For
yonder
garden,
fair
and
wide,
With
groves
of
evergreen,
Long
winding
walks,
and
borders
trim,
And
velvet
lawns
between;
Restore
to
me
that
little
spot,
With
gray
walls
compassed
round,
Where
knotted
grass
neglected
lies,
And
weeds
usurp
the
ground.
Though
all
around
this
mansion
high
Invites
the
foor
to
roam,
And
though
the
halls
are
fair
within—
Oh,
give
me
back
my
home!
