Within this pleasant wood, beside the lane, Let's sit, and rest us from the burning sun, And hide us in the leaves, and entertain An hour away; -- to watch the wood-brook run Through heaps of leaves, drop dribbling after drop, Pining for freedom, till it climbs along In eddying fury o'er the foamy top; And then loud laughing sings its wimpling song, Kissing the misty dewberry by its side, With eager salutations, and in joy; Making the flag-leaves dance in graceful pride, Giving and finding joy. -- Here we employ An hour right profitably, thus to see Life may meet joys where few intruders be. |