"With fairest flowers,
Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele" 
When I removed into the country, it was to occupy an old–fashioned farm–house, which had no piazza a deficiency the more regretted, because not only did I like piazzas, as somehow combining the coziness 
of in–doors with the freedom of out–doors, and it is so pleasant to inspect your thermometer there, but the country round about was such a picture, that in berry time no boy climbs hill or crosses vale without 
coming upon easels planted in every nook, and sun–burnt painters painting there.