Evening Pastime

Musing beside the crackling fire at night,
While singing kettle merrily prepares
Woman's solacing beverage, I delight
To read a pleasant volume, where the cares
Of life are sweetened by the muse's voice —
Thomson, or Cowper, or the bard that bears
Life's humblest name, though Nature's favoured choice,
Her pastoral Bloomfield; — and as evening wears,
Heavy with reading, list the little tales
Of laughing children, who edge up their chairs
To tell the past day's sport, which never fails
To cheer the spirits. While my fancy shares
Their artless talk, man's sturdy reason quails,
And memory's joy grows young again with their's.