This stream that bears its flowery stores along,
And tells thy wisdom in its murmured song—
Yon placid lake, in whose transparent breast
Each bending shrub’s green image is at rest,
Whose face anon the rippling breezes swell—
The towering rocks which crown that shadowy dell—
All speak thy presence. Thine immensity,
That fills this breathing earth—the land—the sea—
Moves in the winds, when soft as now and warm,
Or bearing on their wings the hurrying storm—