Whose murmuring wave, transparent as it flows,
No more its bed of yellow sand conceals
Than the pure crystal hides the glowing rose;
This bower of peace, thou soother of our care,
God of soft slumbers and of visions fair!
A lowly shepherd consecrates to thee!
Then breathe around some spell of deep repose,
And charm his eyes in balmy dew to close,
Those eyes, fatigued with grief, from tear-drops never free.