Or shuts out the glad rainbow from view.
When a dwelling for his mate is in quest,
Does the robin find its shelter the best.
There his sweetest notes he brings,
And a flood of music flings
O'er your head as you pass 'neath his nest.
There are morning-glories dripping with dew,
And the dogwood blossoms hang over you.
In a drowse of rapture sweet
Does this vale look up to meet,