In what rich leafy glooms,
By the sweet voice of hidden waters stirr’d?
Over what blessed home,
What roof with dark, deep summer foliage crown’d,
O fair as ocean’s foam!
Shall thy bright bosom shed a gleam around?
Or seek’st thou some old shrine
Of nymph or saint, no more by votary woo’d,
Though still, as if divine,
Breathing a spirit o’er the solitude?