’ Tis but a half-hour’ s walk the Mill-Dam o’ er,
Past Punch Bowl Inn, where, by the turnpike’ s side,
The shaded pathway winding to the door,
The mansion rises in ancestral pride:—
Its shaven lawn, and blossoming orchard hoar,
And trellised vines, and hedges trim and neat,
Show plenty and refinement here abide,—
The generous gentleman’ s fair country-seat.
Now, whilst the full moon glances soft and bright
O’ er Mall and Mill-Dam and suburban street,
Turn hitherward thine unaccustomed feet,
At afternoon, or evening, or late night;
A change of scene oft rare attraction lends
To new acquaintance, as to older friends.