Thou lowly cot, where first my breath I drew, Past joys endear thee, childhood's past delight; Where each young summer's pictur'd on my view; And, dearer still, the happy winter-night,...
O painted clouds ! sweet beauties of the sky, How have I view'd your motion and your rest, When like fleet hunters ye have left mine eye, In your thin gauze of woolly-fleecing drest;...