Bounds like a prisoner in his narrow cell,
When through its bars the morning glories dart,
And forest anthems in his hearing swell;
And like the heaving of the voiceful sea,
His panting bosom labors to be free.
Thus, gazing on thy void and sapphire sky,
O summer! in my inmost soul arise
Uplifted thoughts, to which the woods reply,
And the bland air with its soft melodies;
Till basking in some vision’s glorious ray,