Oh ! my valley of shade and dreams !
Golden lights 'mid the distant blue,
Sun that pauses to kiss the dew,
Dew that trembles beneath its beams—

Fain were I but a bird above,
Floating, drifting on waves of air!
Ah ! the life of the birds is fair,
For they wing to the spheres they love.

And if I could but fly and sing
Thro' the sweetness of this dear day,
I would bring all the hope of May,
To thy heart, that is wan for Spring.