O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep, Nature's observatory whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
The foxglove, with its stately bells Of purple, shall adorn thy dells; The wallflower, on each rifted rock, From liberal blossoms shall breathe down, (Gold blossoms frecked with iron-brown,) Its fragrance; while the hollyhock, The pink, and the carnation vie With lupin and with lavender, To decorate the fading year; And larkspurs, many-hued, shall drive Gloom from the groves, where red leaves lie, And Nature seems but half alive.
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