Page:Scenes in my Native Land.pdf/189

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there thou art beneath the hill, By waving poplars circled still, Old House! that time hath deigned to spare, Mid sunny slopes, and gardens fair. Well might I every chart and line, Of parlor, hall, and nook define, For childhood's eye is keen to trace Each favorite and familiar place; The woodbine through the casement peeping, The pampered cat on cushion sleeping, The pleasant haunt with books overspread, The antique chairs, the curtained bed, By housewife's patient needle wrought With many an ample flower, And shepherd lost in lover's thought, And purling brook with willows fraught, And maid in greenwood bower.