Would it were mine amidst the changes
Through which our varied lifetime ranges,
To live on Providence's bounty
Down in some favoured Western county.

There let the daily sun be gleaming
Over rich vales with plenty teeming:
Bold hills my sheltered home surrounding,
And Ocean in the distance sounding.

Thick trees and shrubs should rise about me,
That the rude passers might not flout me:
Huge elms my lowly roof embowering,
And poplars from my shrubbery towering.

In the smooth turf choice beds of posies,
And lilies white, and crimson roses;
Climbers my trellised doorway lining,
Vines, round the eaves their tendrils twining.

Some village tower upon me peeping,
And churchyard, where the dead lie sleeping:
The tombs, for a ''memento mori:''
The pinnacles, to point to glory.

There may I dwell with those who love me:
And when the earth shall close above me,
My memory leave a lasting savour
Of grace divine, and human favour.