Doleful was the land,
Dull on, every side,
Neither soft n'or grand,
Barren, bleak, and wide;
Nothing look'd with love;
All was dingy brown;
The very skies above Seem'd to sulk and frown.
Plodding sick and sad,
Weary day on day;
Searching, never glad,
Many a miry way;
Poor existence lagg'd In this barren place;
While the seasons dragg'd Slowly o'er its face.
Spring, to sky and ground,
Came before I guess'd;
Then one day I found A valley, like a nest!
Guarded with a spell Sure it must have been,
This little fairy dell Which I had never seen.
Open to the blue,
Green banks hemm'd it round A rillet wander'd through With a tinkling sound;
Briars among the rocks Tangled arbours made;
Primroses in flocks Grew beneath their shade.
Merry birds a few,
Creatures wildly tame,
Perch'd and sung and flew;
Timid field-mice came;
Beetles in the moss Journey'd here and there;
Butterflies across Danced through sunlit air.
There I often read,
Sung alone, or dream'd;
Blossoms overhead,
Where the west wind stream'd;
Small horizon-line,
Smoothly lifted up,
Held this world of mine In a grassy cup.
The barren land to-day Hears my last adieu:
Not an hour I stay;
Earth is wide and new.
Yet, farewell, farewell!
May the sun and show'rs Bless that Little Dell Of safe and tranquil hours!
