With the clang of the merry hunter’s horn.
There the humming-bird, of rainbow plume,
Hangs over the scarlet creeper’s bloom;
While ’midst the leaves his varying dyes
Sparkle like half-seen fairy eyes.
There the echoes ring through the livelong day
With the mock-bird’s changeful roundelay;
And at night, when the scene is calm and still,
With the moan of the plaintive whip-poor-will.
Oh! I sigh for the land of the cypress and pine,