Page:Poems on Various Subjects - Coleridge (1796).djvu/87

 Up scour the startling stragglers of the Flock That on green plots o'er precipices brouze: From the forc'd fissures of the naked rock The Yew tree bursts! Beneath it's dark green boughs (Mid which the May-thorn blends it's blossoms white) Where broad smooth stones jut out in mossy seats, I rest.—And now have gain'd the topmost site. Ah! what a luxury of landscape meets My gaze! Proud Towers, and Cots more dear to me, Elm-shadow'd Fields, and prospect-bounding Sea! Deep sighs my lonely heart: I drop the tear: Enchanting spot! O were my here!