I wander along o’er the cool starry wave,
To fan Flora’s gems with my magical wing,
And low, while the dew-drops are falling, to sing.
Then hie me away to a child in its dreams,
And whisper of fountains and cool running streams.
When Autumn steals on, clad in purple and gold,
The mountains and woods in his robe to enfold,
And flowers, as they gaze on the dull, paling sky,
Grow weary of life and so bow them to die;
When forest-leaves gently are falling to earth,