SONNET I. BERRY's HILL

Who gave this spot the name of Berry's Hill

I know not, and in sooth care not to know,

For names, like fashions, ofttimes come and go,

By mere caprice of arbitrary will:

But ‘tis a lovely spot! enough of skill

Hath been employed to make it lovelier show,

Yet not enough for Art to overthrow

What Nature meant should wear her livery still.

That gleaming lakelet, sparkling in the ray

Of summer sunshine; these embowering trees,

Rustled each moment by the passing breeze;

And those which clothe with many-tinted spray

Yon wooded heights; green meads with flowrets gay;

Each gives to each yet added powers to please.

SONNETII. THE SEAT AT BERRY's HILL

It was a happy thought—upon the brow

Of this slight eminence, abrupt and sheer,

This artless seat and straw-thatched roof to rear;

Where one may watch the labourer at his plough;

Or hear, well-pleased, as I am listening now,

The song of wild birds falling on the ear,

Blended with hum of bees, or sound more drear,

The solemn murmur of the wind-swept bough.

Tent-like the fabric! in its centre stands

The sturdy oak, that spreads its boughs on high

Above its roof; while to the unsated eye

Beauteous the landscape which below expands!

Where grassy meadows, richly cultured lands,

With leafy woods and hedge-row graces vie.

SONNET III. THE SAME SCENE CONTINUED

It were, methinks, no very daring flight

Unto a poet's fond imagination,

To make this tent a prouder habitation;

Where Nature's worshipper and votary might,

With each appropriate and simple rite,

Bow to her charms, in quiet adoration

Of Him who meant his visible creation

Should minister to more than sense or sight!

Oh, then, this tent-like seat might well become

A temple—more befitting prayer or praise,

Than the mere listless loiterer's idle gaze;

And if it struck the sordid worldling dumb,

Proving of Nature's charms the countless sum,

’Twere not less worthy of the poet's lays!