O ye groves and crystal fountains!
How I love at liberty,
By turns, to come and visit ye!”
Come, let us burst the cerements and the shroud,
And with the livelong year renew our breath,
Far from the darkness of the city’s cloud
Which hangs above us like the pall of Death.
Haste, let us leave the shadow of his wings!
Off from our cares, a stolen, happy time!
Come where the skies are blue, the uplands green;