Abroad to gentle airs their folds were flung,
Rose in the sky, and bore thee soft along.
The south wind breathed to waft thee on thy way
And danced and shone beneath the billowy bay.
Calm rose afar the city spires, and thence
Came the deep murmur of its throngs of men,
And as its grateful odors met thy sense,
They seemed the perfumes of thy native fen.
Fair lay its crowded streets, and at the sight
Thy tiny song grew shriller with delight.