The Hermit

FAR in de country let me hide myself
From life’s sad pleasures an’ de greed of pelf,
Dwellin’ wid Nature primitive an’ rude,
Livin’ a peaceful life of solitude.

Dere by de woodland let me build my home
Where tropic roses^[1] ever are in bloom,
An’ t’rough de wild cane^[2] growin’ thick and tall
Rushes in gleeful mood de waterfall.

Roof strong enough to keep out season rain,^[3]
Under whose eaves loved swallows will be fain
To build deir nests, an’ deir young birdlings rear
Widouten have de least lee t’ought of fear.^[4]

An’ in my study I shall view de wul’,
An’ learn of all its doin’s to de full;
List to de woodland creatures’ music sweet—
Sad, yet contented in my lone retreat.