Whither, whither, wearied dove, <br />Wilt thou fly to seek thy rest? <br />Beat with many a heavy storm, <br />Where repose thy tender breast? <br />Hither, hither, gentle dove, <br />Bend thy flight and build thy home; <br />Here repose thy tender breast, <br />Fix thy foot, and never roam. <br />Welcome, welcome, soft-eyed dove, <br />To the sheltering low-roofed cot, <br />Leave the splendid city's throng, <br />Meekly kiss thy quiet lot. <br /> <br />Low-roofed cots and whispering groves <br />Suit thy pensive sweetness best; <br />Health shall bloom, and Peace shall smile <br />Round thy small but downy nest. <br />Try thy thrilling notes once more, <br />Plume again thy ruffled wing; <br />With thy sister turtles coo, <br />Drink at Pleasure's native spring.<br /><br />Anna Laetitia Barbauld<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-mrs-marissal/
