ABSTRACT
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view!
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew!
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it, The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell,
The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well-
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well.
