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the return of summer.
Where the wild flowers sweet are blushing,
In many a quiet nook,
And the starry moss lies gleaming
By the softly-singing brook;
And gemmed with diamond dew-drops,
The garden blossoms stand,
In their robes of grace and beauty
O'er all the pleasant land.
In many a quiet nook,
And the starry moss lies gleaming
By the softly-singing brook;
And gemmed with diamond dew-drops,
The garden blossoms stand,
In their robes of grace and beauty
O'er all the pleasant land.
IV.
Thou art roving on the mountains!
But the pent-up city child,
Amid his toil and weariness,
With thee hath seldom smiled;
He dreameth of thy greenwood shades,
Where, 'neath its roof of leaves
The summer bird, more blest than he,
Its airy fabric weaves;
He dreameth of thy solitudes,
And haply sighs to be
But for one hour, one blessed hour,
On the breezy hills with thee.
But the pent-up city child,
Amid his toil and weariness,
With thee hath seldom smiled;
He dreameth of thy greenwood shades,
Where, 'neath its roof of leaves
The summer bird, more blest than he,
Its airy fabric weaves;
He dreameth of thy solitudes,
And haply sighs to be
But for one hour, one blessed hour,
On the breezy hills with thee.
