The birds were nestled in their bowers;
The dewdrops glitter'd on the flowers;
Almost it seem'd as pitying Heaven
A while its sinless calm had given
To lower regions, lest despair
Should make abode for ever there;
So tranquil—so serene—so bright—
Brooded o'er earth the wings of night.
O'ershadow'd by its ancient yew,
His sheep-cot met the shepherd's view;