Urbs in Rure.


For you and me, who come oppressed1
With London’s turmoil, here is rest.2
Ah me !  If we could idly dream3
For ever down this sunlit stream ;4
Or seek some hidden cottage-nest,5
And shun the city’s weary quest6
Of hollow mirth : then life were blessed,7
And time with endless joys would teem8
For you and me.9
But—if you missed the club’s last jest,10
Or I should doubt how Fashion dressed,11
And if we lost the bliss supreme12
Of Madam Scandal’s newest theme13
Ah, turn the boat !— the town is best14
For you and me.15