" As now, on some delicious eve, 

 We, in our sweet sequester'd orchard-plot, 

 Sit on the tree crook'd earthward ; whose old boughs, 

 That hang above us in an arborous roof, 

 Stirr'd by the faint gale of departing day, 

 Send their loose blossoms slanting o'er our heads." 



C0LEHID(iE. 



