Written in the Porch of Binstead Church, Isle of Wight

Horace Smith

Farewell, sweet Binstead! take a fond farewell
From one unused to sight of woods and seas,
Amid the strife of cities doomed to dwell,
Yet roused to ecstasy by scenes like these,
Who could for ever sit beneath thy trees,
Inhaling fragrance from the flowery dell;
Or, listening to the murmur of the breeze,
Gaze with delight on Ocean's awful swell.
Again farewell! nor deem that I profane
Thy sacred porch; for while the Sabbath strain
May fail to turn the sinner from his ways,
These are impressions none can feel in vain,—
These are the wonders that perforce must raise
The soul to God in reverential praise.