Hazel bowers

Untoucht by frowning tempest howling high 
Their terrors thro the oak twigs melting green 
That bows the daisey down upon the green 
& threatens much the cowslaps trembling flow[er]s 
Thou ere dwelst peacful in thy lonly scene 
Thy oaks high towering & thy hazel bowers 
Thou lowly hermit flower of Solitude 
Thou plainly tellst a lesson unto me 
The naked hill bears all the tempest rude 
That wind decends to touch such thing as thee

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