Like a lord in his own dominions there, 
Swimming about at will. 
Now toward the margin where we stood 
We saw him steering on,— 
Then under groups of lily leaves 
The happy thing was gone. 
And wild-fowl, water-rats, and all, 
Lived in that little lake; 
Oh, what a pleasant picture now 
My thoughts of it awake 1 
Its margent of smooth lawny turf 
Was mossy, soft, and deep, 
Where the shadows broad of the beech and oak 
Seemed quietly to sleep. 
The rhododendrons, purple yet 
With many a massive wreath, 
Had seedling plants, a countless host, 
Crowding the turf beneath. 
I dearly love small relies brought 
From spots where I have been, 
That seem to certify the facts 
Of memory’s pictured scene; 
But seeds and roots of flowers are 
The pleasantest of all;— 
I’ve Broom-seeds from a heathy glen, 
And ferns from an old stone walL 
12 
