Birds their evening hymns are singing,
And the peasant homeward hies—
’Tis the welcome hour of vespers
And from every heart they rise.
All, save one—her soul enraptured
With the splendor of the scene,
Listlessly reclines she—dreaming—
On the streamlet’s bank of green;
Thoughts of power her spirit burden
Clamorous for a garb of words,