On a neat structure now they rest,
Where rural plainness is exprest,
With harvests stor'd, compact, and warm,
And, tho' Palladian, yet a farm,
Whence cars, in rustic order drawn,
Pass and repass the sloping lawn,
While flocks, in fleecy groups around,
Or, moving, crop the daisy'd ground,
Or, sunk beneath the tufted trees,
Turn, languid, to the noontide breeze.
The lustier herds, in glare of day,
Bask, and imbibe the sunny ray.