Fresh health and beauty from the night may sip,
The rippling streams that feed with ceaseless flow
The pulseless bosom of the lake below,
Where, glassed between long shadows dusk and brown,
In lines of light the mirrored skies sweep down.
Oh, gazing on such scene, how sweetly come
O’er the full soul dear memories of home!
And were but griefs forgot, and faults forgiven,
The heart might dream this earth should yet be heaven;
All this the long wide window could disclose,