"God made the country,"--let the pride of man claim
The town with its buildings, its spires, and its domes,
But leave us in the country our sweet quiet homes.
The scenery around us is lovely to view,
It charmed when a _child_, and at three-score charms too.
Then leave me the country with its birds, fruits, and flowers,
And the _town_, with its pleasures and crowds, may be yours.
E'en in winter the country has right to the claim
Of charms equal to summer; to be sure, not the same.
See winter, stern monarch, as borne on the gale,
He comes armed _cap-a-pie_ in his white coat of mail;
Behold what a change he hath wrought in _one_ night,
He has robed the whole country in _pure spotless white_.
He fails not to visit us once every year,
But finds us _prepared for him_--meets with good cheer,
And a most cordial welcome from all of us here.
When with us he's quite civil and very polite,
In manners most courtly, and dignified quite;
But I'm told were he goes unexpected he's rough,
Chills all by his presence, and savage enough.
_Hark, hear how it storms!_ blowing high and yet higher;
But then we've books, music, and a brilliant wood fire,
Where logs piled on logs give one warmth e'en to see;
Oh! these evenings in winter are charming to me.
In good keeping these logs are with wind and the hail,
Everything in the country is on a _grand scale_.
You have nought in the city I think can compare,
To the bright glowing hearth from a good _country_ fire.
To be sure, now and then, one is cheered by the sight
Of wood fire in the city, but when at its height