THIS green recess, where through the bowery gloom
Ne'er e'en at noontide hours the sunbeam played,
Where violet-beds in soft luxuriance bloom,
Midst the cool freshness of the myrtle-shade;
Where through the grass a sparkling fountain steals,
Whose murmuring wave, transparent as it flows,
No more its bed of yellow sand conceals,
Than the pure crystal hides the glowing rose;
This bower of peace, thou soother of our care,
God of soft slumbers, and of visions fair!
A lowly shepherd consecrates to thee!
Then breathe around some spell of deep repose,
And charm his eyes in balmy dew to close,
Those eyes, fatigued with grief, from tear-drops never free.