MY LITTLE LODGE
On the margin of Codex S. Pauli.
My little lodge in Tuaim Inbir, --
There's no great house of statelier timber;
With its stars art evening bright,
Sun by day and moon by night.
Gobban's was the hand that planned it --
Listen, would you understand it --
And God of heaven, my heart's beloved,
The roofer that built the roof above it.
A house in which the rain-storm falls not,
A spot where spear-point sharp appalls not;
A very garden, full of light, --
And no forbidding fence in sight!
Anonymous, 8th c.
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