And 'neath the heaven's o'erarching bow,
Bloom laurels proud, and violets low,
In fragrance sweet, and beauty rare,
With graceful rose, and lily fair;
The mirthful grape, and crocus glad,
Yet here and there, geranium sad,
With hawthorn, and ambrosia kind,
And 'mongst them all is ivy twined.
Amid these blooming spirit-lands,
Mid chaplets wreathed by Love's own hands,