I

Bright sunshine on the meadows lying,
Low winds among the orchards sighing,
Blush roses by the pathway blooming,
And brown bees through the clover booming.

Cowslips where murmurous brooks are flowing,
Sweet violets by the roadside showing,
Pink blossoms and white daisies greeting,
And blue waves on the wide sands beating.

Like flame-flecks through the verdant arches
Of sturdy oaks and silver larches,
With wealth of rapid, joyous singing,
Blithe, merry robins swiftly winging.

II

Over the dark and sullen reaches,
Surging along the sodden beaches,
Weird, vague songs in its deep intoning,
The drear East wind is sadly moaning.

With deep, sonorous roll, the thunder
Reverberates the storm glooms under,
And tossing seas high sprays are flinging,
Where driving rain smites hard and stinging.

With fierce, hot glare, the lurid lightning
Along the foamy crests is brightening;
Across the black clouds, linked and livid,
Its flashes burn in splendor vivid.

III

Far, purple skies, serene and mellow,
Mingling of crimson tints and yellow,
Russet and amber leaves entwining,
And barberries and sumachs shining.

Gray shadows over hillsides drifting,
Gold lights through swaying branches sifting,
Birds softly to each other calling,
And ripened nuts and apples falling.

A little valley southward facing,
A lake set in an emerald tracing,
And hid from winds now growing chilly,
The white bud of a fragrant lily.