I seek in solitude a peaceful hour,
Nor deem that others who are gay are wrong,
If midst multipled cares they have such power.
But I would commune with my heavy heart
Beneath the foliage of this lonely bower;
Perchance a soothing vision here may start,
Or at my feet may rise some tender flower,
Refreshing to the wounded spirit’s thirst,
Which for the moment I may call my own,
Unlike the hopes and buds that gladdened first,