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MIDWAY on long Winander’s eastern shore, | |
| Within the crescent of a pleasant bay, | |
| A tavern stood; no homely-featured house, | |
| Primeval like its neighboring cottages, | |
| But ’t was a splendid place, the door beset | 5 |
| With chaises, grooms, and liveries, and within | |
| Decanters, glasses, and the blood-red wine. | |
| In ancient times, and ere the hall was built | |
| On the large island, had this dwelling been | |
| More worthy of a poet’s love, a hut, | 10 |
| Proud of its own bright fire and sycamore shade. | |
| But, though the rhymes were gone that once inscribed | |
| The threshold, and large golden characters, | |
| Spread o’er the spangled sign-board, had dislodged | |
| The old Lion and usurped his place, in slight | 15 |
| And mockery of the rustic painter’s hand, | |
| Yet, to this hour, the spot to me is dear, | |
| With all its foolish pomp. The garden lay | |
| Upon a slope surmounted by a plain | |
| Of a small bowling-green; beneath us stood | 20 |
| A grove, with gleams of water through the trees | |
| And over the tree-tops; nor did we want | |
| Refreshment, strawberries and mellow cream. | |
| There, while through half an afternoon we played | |
| On the smooth platform, whether skill prevailed | 25 |
| Or happy blunder triumphed, bursts of glee | |
| Made all the mountains ring. But ere nightfall, | |
| When in our pinnace we returned at leisure | |
| Over the shadowy lake, and to the beach | |
| Of some small island steered our course with one, | 30 |
| The minstrel of the troop, and left him there, | |
| And rowed off gently, while he blew his flute | |
| Alone upon the rock,—O, then the calm | |
| And dead still water lay upon my mind | |
| Even with a weight of pleasure, and the sky, | 35 |
| Never before so beautiful, sank down | |
| Into my heart, and held me like a dream! | |
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