Over hill, and brook, and fen,
By his band of swart, wild men,
Dainty odors floating back
From their blossom-crushing track.
“Through the jungle, vast and dim,
Swells out Nature’s matin hymn:
Bulbuls ’mid the berries red,
Showers of mellow music shed;
Thrushes ’neath their crimson hoods
Chant their loves along the woods;