As I shed o’er her leaves, the early dew.
On a sunbeam I sit enthron’d in light,
And chase with my wand the shades of night,
And oft beneath the moon’s pale beam
I weave with sweet fancies the maiden’s dream.
Deep in the woods, the nightingale
Telleth to me her love-lorn tale;
With the glorious lark, I soar on high
As her thrilling notes ring thro’ earth and sky.
I love to skim o’er the pathless seas,