Samuel Rogers.

1763-1855

586   A Wish

MINE be a cot beside the hill;
   A bee-hive’s hum shall soothe my ear;
A willowy brook, that turns a mill,
   With many a fall shall linger near.

The swallow oft beneath my thatch
   Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;
Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch
   And share my meal, a welcome guest.

Around my ivied porch shall spring
   Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;
And Lucy at her wheel shall sing
   In russet gown and apron blue.

The village church among the trees,
   Where first our marriage vows were given,
With merry peals shall swell the breeze
   And point with taper spire to Heaven.