Adieu the grave, pacific air,
Safe from the flitting mountain-breeze;
The marshy levels lank and bare,
Sacred from furrows hills or trees:
Adieu each mantling, fragrant flood,
Untaughto to murmur or to flow:
Adieu the music of the mud,
That sooths at eve the patient lover's woe,
And wakes to sprightlier thoughts the painful poet's blood.