Charms.

IN HILLY- WOOD  

How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs,  

Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me; 

Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs,  

But not an eye can find its way to see. 

The sunbeams scarce molest me with a smile,  

So thick the leafy armies gather round; 

And where they do, the breeze blows cool the while,  

Their leafy shadows dancing on the ground. 

Full many a flower, too, wishing to be seen, 

Perks up its head the hiding grass between.  

In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be; 

Where all the noises, that on peace intrude,  

Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee, 

Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.

John Clare