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THE ROSARY.—OLD BROMPTON.
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THE ROSARY.—OLD BROMPTON.
Talk not to me of castles, moated round
With antique tower and battlement arrayed,
Talk not to me of palaces,—I've found
So sweet a haunt, that these are lost in shade;
A fairy cottage, with its attic hues,
A garden, where the freshest violets blow,
A sacred nook, for dalliance with the muse,
Where flowers and statues breathe, and pictures glow;
Hearts filled with love, the classic thought that twine
And draw the shamrock forth to purer air;
A mother beauteous in her life's decline,
And ever gladdened by their duteous care:
How blest from noise and restless pomp to flee,
And taste serene repose, sweet Rosary, with thee.
Saturday, March 20, 1841.
