The fountains and the laughing rills,

I love to quaff her sparkling wine,

And breathe the fragrance of the pine.

I love to dash the crystal dews

From floral shapes of varied hues,

And interweave the modest white

Of columbine in garlands bright.

I love to lie within the shade,

On grassy couch, by nature made,

And listen to the warbling notes

From her fair songsters' feathered throats.

And freed from artificial wants,

I love to dwell in nature's haunts,

And by the mountain's crystal lake

A rustic habitation make.

I love to scale the mountain height

And watch the eagle in his flight,

Or gaze upon the azure sea

Of aerial immensity.

I love the busy marts of trade,

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