The poem
With many a pause and oft reverted eye I climb the Coomb's ascent: sweet songsters near Warble in shade their wild-wood melody: Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soothes my ear. Up scour the startling stragglers of the flock That on green plots o'er precipices browze: From the deep fissures of the naked rock The Yew-tree bursts! Beneath its dark green boughs (Mid which the May-thorn blends its blossoms white) Where broad smooth stones jut out in mossy seats, I rest: - and now have gain'd the topmost site. Ah! what a luxury of landscape meets My gaze! Proud towers, and Cots more dear to me, Elm-shadow'd Fields, and prospect-bounding Sea! Deep sighs my lonely heart: I drop the tear: Enchanting spot! O were my Sara here!