O would that she were here,
These hills and dales among,
Where vocal groves are gayly mocked
By echo's airy tongue,--
Where jocund Nature smiles
In all her gay attire,
Amid deep-tangled wiles
Of hawthorn and sweet-brier.
O would that she were here,
That fair and gentle thing,
Whose words are musical as strains
Breathed by the wind-harp's string.
O would that she were here,
Where the free waters leap,
Shouting in their joyousness,
Adown the rocky steep,--
Where rosy Zephyr lingers
All the livelong day,
With health upon his pinions,
And gladness in his way.
O would that she were here,
Sure Eden's garden-plot
Did not embrace more varied charms
Than this romantic spot.
O would that she were here,
Where frolic by the hours,
Rife with the song of bee and bird,
The perfume of the flowers,--
Where beams of peace and love,
And radiant beauty's glow,
Are pictured in the sky above,
And in the lake below.
O would that she were here--
The nymphs of this bright scene,
With song, and dance, and revelry,
Would crown BIANCA queen.