Thompson, sweet village! throned upon thy hills, With happy homes, and spires that gleam above Thy sacred altars, where the fathers taught, And generations learned the way to God— How pleasant, with remembrance’s eye, to view The varied landscape changing autumn spreads O’er sunny vales that slumber at thy feet; Where roll the babbling brook and deeper stream, Winding, like threads of silver tissue, wrought By Moorish maidens on their robes of green. Around thee rise a host of smiling towns, Bearing the names of mightier ones abroad. There Dudley, glittering on the northern sky, Stands on her lofty height supremely fair, While westward, Woodstock with her groves is seen, In rural beauty blest; and at her feet, Wrapt in a silver cloud, sweet Pomfret vale, Spreads its gay bosom, dear to childhood’s hour. The iron-horse now darts with lightning speed Through the green valleys that my boyhood knew, And at each turn the lovely river makes, At the mere plashing of the wild swan’s wing, A babbling village rises from the flood; And there the halls of labor lift their domes At Mammon’s call, and countless spindles twirl The snowy thread, that soon is changed to gold; While far around is heard the dash of wheels, And the unceasing roar of swollen dams. The dead leaves dance upon the river’s breast, With tufts of cotton-waste, and here and there A golden apple, dropped by careless boy, Floating along toward the ocean’s flood. On the grey oak the fisher-bird awaits The speckled trout, or chaffin, tinged with gold; While ’neath the rock the swimmer leaves his clothes, And ’mid the cooling wave in gladness sports His ivory limbs, nor heeds the near approach Of roaming bard, or red-cheeked factory girl, Who climbs the rustic bridge, nor casts an eye Toward her Leander, naked in the flood. On such fair maidens no Duennas wait, To scare young love from answering love away; No convent-gates are closed to bar her will, Nor Hotspur brothers, armed with deadly steel, In secret wait to guard that honor safe, Which, but for such restraint, had long since fled.