Through all this summer joy and rest,
Though lying on fair Nature's breast,
There breathes the longing heart's desire,
Would he were here!
The thrill of pain kind Nature feels;
For all the while there o'er me steals
Like holy chimes in midnight air,
"He'll soon be here."
And flowers and trees, vales, hills, and birds
Make haste to echo her glad words,
"He'll soon be here."