Couch'd on green herbage 'mid the warmth of May
—A parting promise makes a bright farewell:
Empow'r'd to wait for thy return
Voice of the Heav'ns I will not mourn;
Content that holy peace and mute remembrance dwell
Within the bosom of the chorded shell
Tuned 'mid those seats of love and joy, concealed
By day, by night imperfectly revealed;
Thy native mansions that endure
Beyond their present seeming—pure