Here the dew-damp lingers longest ’mid the plushy fountain moss;
Here the bergamot’s red blossom leans the stilly stream across;
Here the shade is darkly silent; here the breeze is liquid cool,
And the very air seems married to the freshness of that pool.
See, where down its depths pellucid, Nature’s purest waters well,
Breaking up in curving current, wimpled line and bubbly swell;
While in swift and noiseless beauty, through the deep and dewy grass,
O’er the rock and down the valley, see the hurrying waters pass.
Oh, how dreamy grow my senses, as I couch me ’mid the flowers,
Oh, how still the blue sky looketh, oh, how noteless creep the hours;