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From yonder ambient worlds of light,
Deep draughts of passionate delight.
Hollo, my Fancy! It is well
To ponder on the spheres above—
To bid each fount of feeling swell
Responsive to the glance of love.
See! trooping in a gladsome row,
How steadfastly these tapers glow;
And light up hill and darksome glen
To cheer the path of wand'ring men,
And eke of frolic elf and fay
That haunt the hollow hill, or play
By crystal brook, or gleaming lake,
Or dance until the green wood shake
To fits of choicest minstrelsie,
Under the cope of the witch elm-tree.
When all is hush around and above,
Then is the hour to carpe of love;
When not an eye but ours is waking,
Nor even the lightest leaflet shaking—
When, like a newly-captured bird,
The fluttering of the heart is heard;
When tears come to the eye unbidden,
And blushing cheeks are in bosom hidden!
