The Secluded Grove

The oaks in a close winding grove,
Whose embrace enfolds the fairest moss,
Where some day must come our covering love,
But a stream’s dart shall solace the loss;
In quietude breathes on the sea,
To watch worlds fair come and go —
I’ll create, my dear darling,
That fresh gay heart in the glow.

— James Collinson

• James Collinson