Ling’ring in pity on summer’s loved bowers;
Thy last ray is streaming, thy farewell tint beaming,
Yet soon thou’lt return to refreshen the flowers.
Thy parting brings sadness, yet nations in gladness
Are waiting to worship thee—fountain of light!
Where’er thy footsteps be, there do we beauty see,
Thou kindlest day in the dwellings of night.
Where sleeps the thunder—there dost thou wander,
Down ’neath the ocean deep, there dost thou stray,
Kissing the stars at morn, high on the air upborne,