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Recreation.
By W. M. MacKeracher
Give me a cottage embower'd in trees,
Far from the press and the din of the town;
There let me loiter and live at my ease,
Happier far than the King with his crown.
There let the music that's sweeter than words
Waken my soul's inarticulate song,
Murmur of zephyrs and warbling of birds,
Babble of waters that hurry along.
Under the shade of the maple and beech
Let me in tranquil contentment recline,
Learning what nature and solitude teach,
Charming philosophy, human, divine;
Finding how trivial the myriad things
Life is concern'd with, to seek or to shun;
Seeing the sources whence blessedness springs,
Gathering strength for the work to be done.
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