I

i am strongly gifted with the rural feeling. i love the beauties of nature. for some time i lived in a cottage, which faces a lawn that extends like a huge carpet of vivid green.
behind the cottage slim bamboo is swaying in the breeze, and before  the cottage lies a fine and soft lawn with colorful wild flowers and quiet pools dotted about. in the pool fish are  roaming about freely. woodbine crawls over the walls, hanging its blossoms about. around the cottage holly is providently planted, to cheat winter of its dullness, and to throw an appearance of green summer to cheer the cold house.
looking out of the window, i can see clumps of tall trees here and there, heaping up piles of rich green leaves in the air, the magnificence of groves, and woodland glades, with deer trooping in silent herds across them,hares bounding away to coverts, or pheasant birds suddenly bursting open their wings, a crystal stream winding its way into a glassy lake, felecting the trembling trees, with yellow leaves sleeping in the midst, and at whiles i catch sight of an old temple or some still statues, grown green and damp with age, giving an air of classic holiness to retirement.
if ever love, as poets sing, delights to visit a cottage, it must be my cottage.