Glad as a king, and fresh, and free,—
And knew a thousand songs beside!
Einar.
Just as the village I pass’d through,
She chanced to dwell an inmate there.
She longed to taste the upland air,
The scented woods, the sun, the dew;
Me God unto the mountains drew,—
My heart cried out: Seek Beauty’s might
In forests dim and rivers bright