(Or _thine_ or _this_) be o'er it spread.
And form its dark and silent bed.
I never think of bliss below
But thy sweet hills their green heads show,
Of love and beauty never dream.
But English faces round me gleam!

D.L.R.

I have often observed that children never wear a more charming aspect
than when playing in fields and gardens. In another volume I have
recorded some of my impressions respecting the prominent interest
excited by these little flowers of humanity in an English landscape.

* * * * *

THE RETURN TO ENGLAND.

When I re-visited my dear native country, after an absence of many weary
years, and a long dull voyage, my heart was filled with unutterable
delight and admiration. The land seemed a perfect paradise. It was in
the spring of the year. The blue vault of heaven--the clear
atmosphere--the balmy vernal breeze--the quiet and picturesque cattle,
browsing on luxuriant verdure, or standing knee deep in a crystal
lake--the hills sprinkled with snow-white sheep and sometimes partially
shadowed by a wandering cloud--the meadows glowing with golden butter-cups
and be-dropped with daisies--the trim hedges of crisp and sparkling
holly--the sound of near but unseen rivulets, and the songs of
foliage-hidden birds--the white cottages almost buried amidst trees, like
happy human nests--the ivy-covered church, with its old grey spire