Amid a Crown of Radiant Hills

Amid a crown of radiant hills,A little wood with blossoms rareBreathes sweetly, while the young lark trillsHis new learnt melody and fillsThe fragrant air.

Among its boughs the fresh winds play,And, where the spreading branches part,The sun-light drops from spray to spray,To seek the ferny streams which strayWithin its heart.

And there the wild bee fills his cells,And murmurs through the golden hours,And charmèd fancies and sweet spells,Are woven in the tall blue-bellsAnd cuckoo-flowers.

There many a mossy bank entwinedWith shining leaves awaits our choice,Come swiftly, love, my soul unbindWith thy dear looks, that it may findIts prisoned voice.