Bright with the golden shine of heaven, plays
On tender blades the dew;
And the spring-landscape’s trembling likeness sways
Clear in the streamlet’s blue.
Fair is the rocky fount, the blossomed hedge,
Groves stained with golden light;
Fair is the star of eve, that on the edge
Of purple clouds shines bright.
Fair is the meadow’s green—the valley’s copse—
The hillock’s dress of flowers—