Reynolds, no more as erst two frolic boys
By Severn's side our school-day tricks we try,
For me now holds the love of rural joys,
Thee city pomp, light sock, and buskin high.
Yet distance dares not bid us leave to ply
The social sheet, or court our mutual muse,
For distance cannot time-tied souls untie
Nor dim the long horizon of their views.
But never let my woods their leafage lose
Till thou hast there admired ripe August glow;
Nor shall in turn my friendly foot refuse
To beat thy threshold with December's snow.
So shalt thou love my rural joys: and I
Approve thy scenic pomp, light sock, and buskin high.
John Dovaston (1782-1854)
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