Dost thou covet a summer
More certain of bliss?
Go seek thee a country
Far brighter than this;
Where the joys thou hast lost, thou
Shalt never deplore,
And the friends thou hast chosen
Shall quit thee no more.
38. The Dove sent from the Ark.
Go, beautiful and gentle dove,
And greet the morning ray;
For lo, the sun shines bright above,
The floods are past away.
No longer drooping here confin'd,
In this cold prison dwell;
Go free to sunshine and to wind,
Go forth, and fare thee well.
Go, beautiful and gentle dove,
Thy welcome sad will be.
When thou shalt hear no voice of love
In murmurs from the tree.
Yet freedom, freedom shalt thou find
From this cold prison cell;
Go, then, to sunshine and to wind,
Go forth, and fare thee well.
