And kiss’d thy token on the verdant plain;
With fondest hope, thro’ many a blissful bow’r,
We gave the soul to fancy’s pleasing pow’r;
Lost in the magick of that sweet employ,
To build gay scenes, and fashion future joy,
We saw mild peace o’er fair Canaan rise,
And show’r her blessings from benignant skies;
On airy hills our happy mansion rose,
Built but for joy, no room for future woes;
Sweet as the sleep of innocence, the day,