Page:Poems on Various Subjects - Coleridge (1796).djvu/87

Up scour the startling stragglers of the Flock
That on green plots o'er precipices brouze:
From the forc'd fissures of the naked rock
The Yew tree bursts! Beneath it's dark green boughs
(Mid which the May-thorn blends it's blossoms white)
Where broad smooth stones jut out in mossy seats,
I rest.—And now have gain'd the topmost site.
Ah! what a luxury of landscape meets
My gaze! Proud Towers, and Cots more dear to me,
Elm-shadow'd Fields, and prospect-bounding Sea!
Deep sighs my lonely heart: I drop the tear:
Enchanting spot! O were my Sara here!

 

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