Thou, that at deep dead of night Walk'st forth beneath the pale moon's light, In robe of flowing black array'd, While cypress-leaves thy brows o'ershade; List'ning to the crowing cock, And the distant-sounding clock; Or sitting in thy cavern low, Do'st hear the bleak winds loudly blow, Or the hoarse death-boding owl, Or village maistiff's wakeful howl, While through thy melancholy room A dim lamp casts an awful gloom; Thou, that on the meadow green, Or daisy'd upland art not seen, But wand'ring by the dusky nooks, And the pensive-falling brooks, Or near some rugged, herbless rock, Where no shepherd keeps his flock! Musing maid, to thee I come, Hating the tradeful city's hum; O let me calmly dwell with thee, From noisy mirth and bus'ness free, With meditation seek the skies, This folly-fetter'd world despise!
Joseph Warton’s other poems:
- Sappho’s Advice
- On Shooting
- Ode to a Lady on the Spring
- The Enthusiast, or the Lover of Nature
Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):
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