Blent with the murmurs of the wave.
And birds of every rainbow hue,
The antelope, and timid deer,
The wild goat mingling with the blue
Of heaven on yonder rock, are here.
And oft at morn, the mocking-bird
Doth greet me with its sweetest lay;
The wood-dove, where the bush is stirred,
Looks from its cover on my way.
I would not break the spider's thread,—