The Cottage

How calmly fair yon quiet Cottage sleeps
     In the soft sunlight, on the green hill’s slope
     Like a pure soul upon the breast of Hope;
Its pleasant stillness, glad alike when sweets
     The roaring gale, or clouds dissolving ope
     Heaven’s azure halls; though slight yet strong to cope
With winds and tempests from their mountain steeps:
Such is the heart when all within is REST;
     Fair in the sun, and when the dark wing stirs
Of the wild storm, for joy a welcome nest;
     Where loves and virtues, like meek Cottagers,
Dwell calmly; seeming, t the gazer’s eye
The very temple of Tranquility.