SING on, thou sweet warbler, thy glad ev'ning song,
And charm the lone echoes the green woods among ;
As dear unto thee is the sun's setting beam,
So dear unto me is the soul's melting dream :
The dark winter frowning, all pleasure disowning,
Shall strip thy green woods and be deaf to thy moaning ;
But dark stormy winter is yet far away,
Then let us be glad, when all Nature is gay.
[Semple 121]