Thou lov'st to dally with the old oak-tree,
And with its broad green crest sweetly commune.
That sombre cloud that far on high is seen,
Shading the earth from Sol's intensest rays,
Is upward borne by thee, a wondrous screen,
Which both thy goodness and thy power displays.
Within our path thy liquid waves are found,
Constant attendant upon every hour,
Bearing unto us many a moving sound,
And messages from each surrounding flower.