Where essential silence cheers and blesses,
And for ever in the hill-recesses
Her more lovely music broods and dies.
O to mount again where erst I haunted;
Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted,
And the low green meadows bright with sward;
And when even dies, the million-tinted,
And the night has come, and planets glinted,
Lo! the valley hollow, lamp-bestarred.