And air and sea and earth and heaven smile.
Sighs for Rest:
O silver brook, my leisure's early soother,
When wilt thou murmur lullabies again?
When shall I trace thy sliding smooth and smoother,
While kingfishers along thy reeds complain;
Afar from thee with care and toil opprest,
Thy image still can calm my troubled breast.
O ye fair groves and odorous violet valleys,
Girt with a garland blue of hills around,