The hum of bees, the linnet’s lay of love,
And the full choir that wakes the universal grove
The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark;
Crown’d with her pail the tripping milk-maid sings;
The whistling plowman stalks afield; and hark!
Down the rough slope the ponderous wagon rings;
Through rustling corn the hare, astonish’d, springs;
Slow tolls the village clock the drowsy hour—
The partridge bursts away on whirring wings;
Deep mourns the turtle in sequester’d bower,