Poetry Archives

O north! as thy romantic vales I leave,
  And bid farewell to each retiring hill,
  Where thoughtful fancy seems to linger still,
Tracing the broad bright landscape; much I grieve
  That mingled with the toiling croud, no more
I shall return, your varied views to mark,
  Of rocks winding wild, and mountains hoar,
Or castle gleaming on the distant steep.
  Yet not the less I pray your charms may last,
  And many a soften’d image of the past
Pensive combine; and bid remembrance keep
  To cheer me with the thought of pleasure flown,
  When I am wand’ring on my way alone.