Let us in the early dawn,
Seek the mountain's awful brow,
When the shades of night are gone,
And calmly smiles the scene below;—
Let us wander carelessly
Through the silence-breathing wood,
And gaze where swiftly rushes by,
Whitened with foam, the troubled flood;—
Let us steal along the vale,
Where the bee is humming round,
And the velvet-pinioned gale
Whispers o'er the flowery ground.
Nymph of most enchanting power,
Let us roam the wild-wood through,
When at morn or evening's hour
Droop the leaves with pearly dew.