Classic Poem

TO A NEW HOUSE ON TURNHAM GREEN .

No more of Nature's mirror tell;
The tufted hill, and sloping dell;
It is the mind that shifts the scene,
To Arno's Vale — on Turnham Green .

A Poet in St. Martin's Lane
Has all Arcadia in his train;
To him the dancing Fauns are seen,
With Dryads — upon Turnham Green .

The London Grocer's rural hop,
The Pack-horse , with its mutton-chop,
Are " gems of purest ray serene "
To Sappho's eye — on Turnham Green .

Her eye can from the window hail,
An Ariel on the Oxford mail;
To her the Nine from baskets lean,
And sing in parts on Turnham Green .

The Zephyrs her command obey,
And blow suburban dust away;
The Fairies crown their Village Queen,
The Cynosure of Turnham Green .

Creative is the eye of Taste;
Gives bloom to Hounslow's dreary waste;
And still adorns with Flora's mien,
At Charing Cross — or Turnham Green .