Where hast thou wandered, gentle gale, to find the perfumes thou dost bring?

So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.

Oh, bring again my heart's content,Thou Spirit of the Summer-time!

Thus, I steer my bark, and sail On even keel, with gentle gale.

O sleep, O gentle sleep, nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, that thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down and steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Thou blossom bright with autumn dew,And colored with the heaven's own blue. . . .