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How brightly glistening in the sun
       The woodland ivy plays!
While yonder beeches from their barks
       Reflect his silver rays.
That sun surveys a lovely scene
       From softly smiling skies;
And wildly through unnumbered trees
       The wind of winter sighs:

Now loud, it thunders o'er my head,
       And now in distance dies.
But give me back my barren hills
       Where colder breezes rise;

Where scarce the scattered, stunted trees
       Can yield an answering swell,
But where a wilderness of heath
       Returns the sound as well.

For yonder garden, fair and wide,
       With groves of evergreen,
Long winding walks, and borders trim,
       And velvet lawns between;

Restore to me that little spot,
       With grey walls compassed round,
Where knotted grass neglected lies,
       And weeds usurp the ground.

Though all around this mansion high
       Invites the foot to roam,
And though its halls are fair within --
       Oh, give me back my HOME!

Acton