Page:Poems (Barbauld).djvu/101

Rh No lov'd familiar objects meet my ight; No long remember'd treams or concious bowers, 'Wake the gay memory of youthful hours. I fondly hop'd, content with learned eae, To walk amidt cotemporary trees; In every cene ome fav'rite pot to trace, And meet in all ome kind dometic ace; To tretch my limbs upon my native oil, With long vacation from unquiet toil; Reign my breath where firt that breath I drew, And ink into the pot from whence I grew. But if my feeble age is doom'd to try Unuual eafons and a foreign ky, To ome more genial clime let me repair, And tate the healing balm of milder air; Near to the glowing un's directer ray, And pitch my tent beneath the eye of day. Could not the winter in my veins uffice, Without