From out the mountains, like a lurking grief;
As on our happy home, the silent thief
His hateful eye reveals;
Bringing me down from heaven
To this dull earth, whereon my footsteps tread—
The sky, so calm and pure above my head,
Health to my soul has given!
And now, before me placed,
What is there to rejoice the eye or ear?
All that the heart deems fair is surely here,