The Deserted Village.

The Deserted Village.
560.3

Sweet Auburnt lovellest village of the plain,
Where herith and plenty cheered the laboring swain.
Where smiling spring its earliest visit pald.
And parting summer’s lingering blooms delayed.
Dear, lovely bowers of innocence and
Seats of my youth, when every sport could please.
How often have I loitered over thy green.
Where humble happiness endeared each scenel
How often have i paused on every charin.-
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm
The never failing brook, the busy mill.
The decent church that topped the neighboring
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade
For talking age, and whispering lovers made!

How often have I blessed the coming day.
When toll remitting lent its aid to piay.
And all the he village tram, from labor free.
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree
While many a pastime circled in the shade.-
The young contending as the old surveyed;
And many a gambol frolicked o’er the ground,
And sleights of art and feats of strength went round.
Sweet, smiling village, lovellest of the lawn:
Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn;
thy bowers, the tryrant’s hand is geen,
And desolation saddens sall thy green:
No more thy glassy brook reflects the day.
But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way!
Along thy glades, a solitary guest.
The hollow sounding bittern guards its nest.