O'er desert plains, and rushy meres, <br />And wither'd heaths I rove; <br />Where tree, nor spire, nor cot, appears, <br />I pass to meet my love. <br /> <br />But, though my path were damask'd o'er <br />With beauties e'er so fine, <br />My busy thoughts would fly before, <br />To fix alone-on thine. <br /> <br />No fir-crown'd hills could give delight, <br />No palace please mine eye; <br />No pyramid's aerial height, <br />Where mould'ring monarchs lie. <br /> <br />Unmoved, should Eastern kings advance, <br />Could I the pageant see: <br />Splendour might catch one scornful glance, <br />Nor steal one thought from thee.<br /><br />William Shenstone<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-xii-o-er-desert-plains-and-rushy-meres/
