1 <br /> <br />Ever musing I delight to tread <br />The Paths of honour and the Myrtle Grove <br />Whilst the pale Moon her beams doth shed <br />On disappointed Love. <br />While Philomel on airy hawthorn Bush <br />Sings sweet and Melancholy, And the thrush <br />Converses with the Dove. <br /> <br />2 <br /> <br />Gently brawling down the turnpike road, <br />Sweetly noisy falls the Silent Stream-- <br />The Moon emerges from behind a Cloud <br />And darts upon the Myrtle Grove her beam. <br />Ah! then what Lovely Scenes appear, <br />The hut, the Cot, the Grot, and Chapel queer, <br />And eke the Abbey too a mouldering heap, <br />Cnceal'd by aged pines her head doth rear <br />And quite invisible doth take a peep.<br /><br />Jane Austen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ode-to-pity/
