Come, quiet thought, and leave the giddy restless
Vain pursuit of earthly cares — O come,
And by yon brook where dancing sun beams
Wander through the trees — invite my Muse,
Or catch yon awful arch — from rock to rock
Where dashing waters burst in broken falls,
Or in the shady break where murm'ring rills,
In wild meanders stray from wood to wood,
Or list'ning to the evening song retir'd
Where scarce a breeze is whisper'd through the scene.
Who can behold yon glorious orb that gilds the sky,
And not adore the hand, Author of Nature,
Who in his works sublime paints out his power;
In Wisdom all express'd, at awful distance, view
The mighty mind — the thought, contrivance,
And the powerful word — And as the sun goes down,
Come, evening mild — and with thy soft'ning dews
Or gentle rains refresh the earth,
Mother of all the sustenance to man.