A Woodland Seat

Within this pleasant wood, beside the lane,
Let's sit, and rest us from the burning sun,
And hide us in the leaves, and entertain
An hour away; — to watch the wood-brook run
Through heaps of leaves, drop dribbling after drop,
Pining for freedom, till it climbs along
In eddying fury o'er the foamy top;
And then loud laughing sings its whimpling song,
Kissing the misty dewberry by its side,
With eager salutations, and in joy;
Making the flag-leaves dance in graceful pride,
Giving and finding joy. — Here we employ
An hour right profitably, thus to see
Life may meet joys where few intruders be.