Summer morning's blush

How sweet the summer morning's blush,

The noontide's ripening glow,

The gloaming's shadows o'er the path

Where happy lovers go,

The lakelet's gleam, the wimpling stream

With childhood sporting nigh,

The towering fell, the cottaged dell,

The sea, the starry sky!

Yes, Nature's face to poet's eye

Is ever pure and fair,

Is ever fresh with new delight,

And rich beyond compare.

The nabob's wealth, the monarch's crown,

Are dust upon the ground

To one who, by the Muses led,

Her treasures vast hath found.

And oh! the sounds that fill the air

From sea, plain, grove, and stream,

Were never such by maiden heard

In love's most ardent dream,—

As rush upon that soul, when, free

From cares of sordid men,

It wanders forth to speak with God

In Nature once again.

In childhood's hour she fills the heart

With rapture undefined;

When press the cares of mid-day life,

She keeps from rust the mind;