In far-off English homes, belov'd by all men here?
IV.
O gems of earth! O trinkets of the spring!
The sun, your gentle king,
Who counts your leaves and marshals ye apace,
In many a sacred place,
The godlike summer sun will miss ye all,
For he has foster'd all things, great and small,
Yea, all good things that live on earth's revolving ball.
V.