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Poem	How brightly glistening in the sun The woodland ivy plays! While yonder beeches from their barks Reflect his silver rays. That sun surveys a lovely scene From softly smiling skies; And wildly through unnumbered trees The wind of winter sighs: Now loud, it thunders o'er my head, And now in distance dies. But give me back my barren hills Where colder breezes rise; Where scarce the scattered, stunted trees Can yield an answering swell, But where a wilderness of heath Returns the sound as well. For yonder garden, fair and wide, With groves of evergreen, Long winding walks, and borders trim, And velvet lawns between; Restore to me that little spot, With grey walls compassed round, Where knotted grass neglected lies, And weeds usurp the ground. Though all around this mansion high Invites the foot to roam, And though its halls are fair within -- Oh, give me back my HOME!
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