The ringdove’s deep melodious moan,
The rustling deer in thickets lone;
The wild-bee’s hum, the aspen’s sigh,
The wood-stream’s plaintive harmony.
Dear scenes of many a sportive hour,
There thy own mountains darkly tower!
Midst their gray rocks no glen so rude
But thou hast loved its solitude!
No path so wild but thou hast known,
And traced its rugged course alone!