The glowworm shows the matin to be near And gins to pale his uneffectual fire.

Till glowworms light owl-watchmen's flight Through our green metropolis.

Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge, The glow-worm lights his gem; and through the dark, A moving radiance twinkles.

Like a glowworm golden, in a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden its aerial blue Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view.

When evening closes Nature's eye, The glow-worm lights her little spark To captivate her favorite fly And tempt the rover through the dark.

Ye living lamps, by whose dear light The nightingale does sit so late; And studying all the summer night, Her matchless songs does meditate.