Nymphs, who court the glowing day,
Seek with us the enchanted grove,
Where no lawless footsteps. stray,
To blight the tender flowers of love.
Here content with smiling face
Weaves the myrtle wreaths of peace;
Nature charms with chastened grace,
Sighs of hope and anguish cease.
Hither bend your wildered feet,
Undisturbed by riot rude;
Kindred souls delight to meet
Mid the cells of Solitude.