• Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close,
    Up yonder hill the village murmur rose;
    There as I passed, with careless steps and slow,
    The mingling notes came soften'd from below;
    The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,
    The sober herd that low'd to meet their young;
    The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,
    The playful children just let loose from school;
    The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,
    And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind;
    These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
    And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.

    Oliver Goldsmith, “The Deserted VILLage”