Make in the elms a lulling sound,
While my lady sleeps in the shade below.
Airs! that over the bending boughs,
And under the shade of pendent leaves,
Murmur soft, like my timid vows,
Or the secret sighs my bosom heaves,—
Gently sweeping the grassy ground,
Bearing delight where'er ye blow,
Make in the elms a lulling sound,