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Letitia Elizabeth Landon - The Country Retreat
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OH lone and lovely solitude, 
	Washed by the sounding sea;
	Nature was in a poet`s mood,
	When she created thee.

	How pleasant in the hour of noon
	To wander through the shade;
	The soft and golden shade which June
	Flings o`er thy inland glade:

	The wild rose like a wreath above,
	The ash-tree`s fairy keys,
	The aspen trembling, as if love
	Were whispered by the breeze;

	These, or the beech`s darker bough,
	For canopy o`er head,
	While moss and fragile flowers below
	An elfin pillow spread.

	Here one might dream the hours away,
	As if the world had not
	Or grief, or care, or disarray,
	To darken human lot.

	Yet `tis not here that I would dwell,
	Though fair the place may be,
	The summer`s favourite citadel:—
	A busier scene for me!

	I love to see the human face
	Reflect the human mind,
	To watch in every crowded place
	Their opposites combined.

	There`s more for thought in one brief hour
	In yonder busy street,
	Than all that ever leaf or flower
	Taught in their green retreat.

	Industry, intellect, and skill
	Appear in all their pride,
	The glorious force of human will
	Triumphs on every side.

	Yet touched with meekness, for on all
	Is set the sign and seal
	Of sorrow, suffering, and thrall,
	Which none but own and feel;
	The hearse that passes with its dead,
	The homeless beggar`s prayer,
	Speak words of warning, and of dread,
	To every passer there.

	Aye beautiful the dreaming brought
	By valleys and green fields;
	But deeper feeling, higher thought,
	Is what the city yields.
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