University of Virginia Library

[What more delightful than to wander forth]

What more delightful than to wander forth
In spring, before the sun has chas'd away
The freshness of the morn; or shook the dew
From off the tender grass? Nature seems
As young, as when the morning light first broke
On Eden; as calm the river's surface;
And the birds as sweetly tune their morning
Hymn. Beneath the shade of oak reflected
In the sleeping stream, I set me down,
And muse and gaze on the unrival'd scene.
Would that my thoughts could speak, my tongue describe
The pleasures, that a scene like this affords!
No—language is too feeble to give them
Utterance. Would to him whose feelings have
Been swallow'd up by love of gold; to him
Whom mad ambition drives; to him whose sense
Is cloy'd by luxury's empoison'd cup,
Would that to them the happiness I feel
I could describe! 'twould strike the fetters from
The slave of gold; 'twould stop ambition's mad
Career, and dash the bowl from palsied hand
Of luxury. The birds their joy express
In notes of sweetest harmony; without
A wave the peaceful river glides along;
The blue sky without a cloud rejoices;
Words fail to give my feelings utterance.
The pleasure within my breast surpasses
Far, that which prompts the sweetest lay
Of bird; more calm my breast than the smooth stream,
With looks more joyful than the azure vault,
In silent gratitude, I raise mine eyes
To heaven.