Dear is the hour, when freed from toils & care
I wander where this lonely fount is singing
And listen to the sounds which fill the air
From its sweet waters springing

O! who can tell how welcome is that hour
How deeply tranquil, how divinely blest
None but the wearied know the hallowed pow'r
Of one sweet pause of rest

My burning brow, pressed to the cool green grass
Freshened with spray-drops from the murmuring well
What strange, wild musings through my spirit pass
What transient fancies swell

High soars my soul from it's chilled earthy bed
I hear the harmonius gates of heaven unfold
I see around me all the silent dead
Great ones who lived of old

But these bright shadows fade full soon away
The wood with all its twilight shades returns
Again the fount springs in the moon's dim ray
Again the night-breeze mourns

O 'God of heaven! what now is Earth to me
What all the pow'r the grandeur she can give
But for the joys of sweet Tranquility
I care not now to live

Aye! by this lonely fount on this hushed night
I would amid untroubled silence die
Expire in stilly darkness, wake to light
And heavenly melody