FROM out the airy balcony
Of many a sylvan cot and dome,
Is poured soul-melting minstrelsy,
That cheers my lonely heart and home.
Around each warbler's chosen haunt
Are heard sweet notes of joy and praise;
From fruit-trees comes the robin's chant,
And from each bush the sparrow's lays.
Amid the poplar's trembling lyre,
That o'er the lawn its shadow throws,