Angel-songs at eve I heard
Rise from many a circling hill,
And my harp whene’er ’t is stirr’d
Trembles to their cadence still!
“I am the spirit of joy and of mirth,
And I gladden the hearts of the sons of earth,
I twine a chaplet of deathless flowers
For the fair young brows of the laughing Hours,
I show to the Poet’s dreaming eye,
The shadowy realms of Phantasy,