Make the desert rejoice and the wilderness smile,
She has certainly paused in her holy career,
And closed up her pinions delightfully here.
Dear to me are thy shades, when no sound may be heard
Save the soul-soothing strains of thy harmonist bird,
For they seem on the soft wing of quiet to come,
Like celestial melodies luring us home,
Faint breathings from Heaven, to bid us prepare
For peals of ethereal minstrelsy there.
But oh! when day rests on the portals of eve,