Cottage Poems

Those peaceable days knew no care,

Except what arose from my play,
My favourite lambkin and hare,

And cabin I built o'er the way.
No cares did I say? Ah! I'm wrong:

Even childhood from cares is not free:
Far distant I see a grim throng

Shake horrible lances at me!

One day--I remember it still--

For pranks I had played on the clown
Who lived on the neighbouring hill,

My cabin was trod to the ground.
Who ever felt grief such as I

When crashed by this terrible blow?
Not Priam, the monarch of Troy,

When all his proud towers lay low.

And grief upon grief was my lot:

Soon after, my lambkin was slain;
My hare, having strayed from its cot,

Was chased by the hounds o'er the plain.
What countless calamities teem

From memory's page on my view!--
How trifling soever you seem,

Yet once I have wept over you.

Then cease, foolish heart, to re