The sacred sweetness of her summer time,
And her bright bosom cover’d o’er with flowers;
The viewless music of the breathing air,
The rushing wind that sweeps across the plain,
The breeze that dallies with the brow of care
And stirs the languid pulse to life again;
Heaven’s glorious arch, when morning through the skies
Skirts all its blue with gold, or sweeter far
At the dim twilight, or when softly rise
The new-born moon and glittering star on star;