I salute you for you limit no bar
To adopt kindness far a much,
When you're pure, glen of toil shoting afar
Must come on ground.

Going and coming will not be a play
Leaning high o'er the lively touch;
Poor who craveth, upon you, must rely,
E'er not be hound.

'Mid a day, 'mid a night, who light in you
Must light our hearts, only as pouch,
When grown; no longer be hidden in view!
Cheerful beats sound.

Happy Nature! Itself, who cares presence
Of flow'd streams and cooing birds, such,
Is full of hymns and rhythms of cadence-
Must go full round.

And Heav'n, lark in deep when lashes the wind
And I'm gourmand at empty couch
And swells, come round about the year, kind;
Thus you spellbound.