In early Spring, and musical and blessed
The nightingale—young Summer's lutenist—
Pours its gay notes-along;
And, in the thunder's roar,
In Autumn, when the sudden lightnings flash,
Sweet sings the missel-thrush amid the crash,
The bursting tempest o'er!
As solitary tree,
That, pilgrim-like, scathless, amid the shock
Of rudest storms, that burst the sterner rock,