Teach them to their lords below;
On the green turf, their mossy nest,
The evening anthem swells their breast.
“Source of Light! Thou bid’st the sun,
On his burning axles run;
The stars like dust around him fly,
And strew the area of the sky.
“O ye nurses of soft dreams,
Reedy brooks, and winding streams,
Or murm’ring o’er the pebbles sheen,