218 
Derivable from things so plenteous, — 
Pleasures not bought with gold—nor giving toil 
Nor pain to living creature. 
Oh! that all 
Partook the feelings which companioned me 
That bright Autumnal morning! The clear sky 
Was blue unbroken, save by one or two 
Small downy clouds of silvery white, that served 
(In artist-phrase) to tell the azure’s depth. 
And sailed along so silently and soft. 
That I did long to be a cloud myself, 
Soaring beside them:—and the Sun’s warm rays 
Fell kindly on the eai'th, whose fading garb. 
Though torn by recent storms that had nigh stripped 
The woodlands of their leavy wealth, looked gay. 
I wandered on — along the beaten path. 
Musing most happily; — and often paused 
Beside the ragged hedgerow, picking out 
From the rough tangled mass, despite the thorns 
(Which, sooth,to say, defended their charge well). 
Bunches of wild red berries, faded leaves,— 
And straggling nettle-tops. Sometimes a stick. 
O’er which the pale-green Lichen manthng, wi'ought 
A forest-scene in miniature. Now, a long. 
Far-creeping, many-angled stalk of that fair plant. 
Fair-seeming, yet oft treach’rous, woody nightshade: — 
