What secret charms this silent spot endear?
-Mark that old mansion frowning through the trees,
Whose hollow turret woos the whistling breeze.
That casement, arched with ivy's brownest shade,
First to these eyes the light of heaven conveyed.
The mouldering gateway strews the grass-grown court.
Once the calm scene of many a simple sport;
When nature pleased, for life itself was new,
And the heart promised what the fancy drew.
See, through the fractured pediment reveal'd,
Where moss inlays the rudely sculptured shield,
The martin's old, hereditary nest.
Long may the ruin spare its hallowed guest!
Samuel Rogers (1773-1855)
