This place that all men seek to find
A paradise, if so inclined
At rest upon a shaded glen
To ponder now compared to then
Would Heaven be so close to this
At once with nature - silent bliss
More apt to find less restful sound
As many thoughts combined expound
Where silvered streams flow warm and free
bathed brightly in prosperity
with pieces found, not bought or sold
and hands that share a common hold
‘Tis not the pantheon of Gods
nor land where noble names once trod
‘Tis but a humble, soiled abode
to men whose fare, this ground was owed
No Heaven then, be not compared
To silence in this Glen unshared
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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