Home Joys

My home is girdled by a limpid stream,
And there in summer days life's movements pause,
Save where some swallow flits from beam to beam,
And the wild sea-gull near and nearer draws.

The goodwife rules a paper board for chess;
The children beat a fish-hook out of wire;
My ailments call for physic more or less.
What else should this poor frame of mine require?