To My Cottage

Thou lowly cot where first my breath I drew
Past joys endear thee childhoods past delight
Where each young summer pictures on my view
And dearer still the happy winter night
When the storm pelted down wi all his might
And roard and bellowd in the chimney top
And patterd vehement gainst the window light
And o'er the threshold from the eaves did drop
How blest Ive listened on my corner stool
Heard the storm rage and hugged my happy spot
While the fond parent wound her whirring spool
And spard a sigh for the poor wanderers lot
In thee sweet hut I all these joys did prove
And these endear thee with eternal love