ungirth,
    And lay them beside this log,
    For you'll roll in that track of reddish earth,
    And shake like a water-dog.

    Upon yonder rise there's a clump of trees—
    Their shadows look cool and broad—
    You can crop the grass as fast as you please,
    While I stretch my limbs on the sward;
    'Tis pleasant, I ween, with a leafy screen
    O'er the weary head, to lie
    On the mossy carpet of emerald green,
    'Neath the vault of the azure sky;
    Thus all alone by the wood and wold,
    I yield myself once again
    To the memories old that, like tales fresh told,
    Come flitting across the brain.