My Own Wild Bower

I stood in the halls where wealth and state
Their glittering robes displayed—
Vice, Vanity, Folly, Ambition and Hate
Assembled in masquerade.

From the trappings of fashion, the pomp of pride,
The wiles and deceit of art,
A child of nature, I turned aside,
With a chilled and a sickening heart.

I sighed to return to the hill and the glen,
The scenes of my earliest hours—
To breathe in my native air again,
As it swept through the sweet wild flowers.

I longed to recline on the violet bed,
Close down by the murmuring stream,
Where oft I have pillowed my infant head,
And sunk in a blissful dream.

Then, my moments of life were rapid and bright
As the rivulet sparkling there;
And the hearts that surrounded me true as light,
And pure as the woodland air.

The velvet couch and the gilded hall,
Gay visions of pomp and power,
Art, fashion and show, I would give you all
For a seat in my own wild bower!