I stood cautiously upon that great hill,
The breeze was calming, & so very still
That the sweet new blooms were proud.
Languid pull, in a curve, neath a shroud,
Their sweet leaves by sweetness stems,
Crowns  that keep those astral diadems
Caught from the budding tears of morn;
And clouds were fair, so wispy and borne
Fresh from the clear beck; they still slept
Upon azure plains of sky; and then crept
A faint buzzing among the green leaves,
Born of a sigh that that quietude heaves,
For not the dimmest stirring in the scene,
Of all the umbrage that lie o'er the green;
Was seen as yet, such Joy
such solace did bring.