Ballads and Lyrics #270448

Apologia.<br><br>Here in my book there will be found<br>No gleanings front a foreign ground:<br>The quiet thoughts of one whose feet<br>Have scarcely left her green retreat;<br>A little dew, a little scent,<br>A little measure of content,<br>A robin's song perchance to stir<br>Some heart-untravelled traveller.<br><br>A low horizon hems me in,<br>Low hills with fields of gold between,<br>Woods that are waving, veiled with grey<br>A little river far away,<br>Birds on the boughs, and on the sward<br>Daisies that dancing praise the Lord.