在这个新的世界对我们的脚套,Shall we find aught to make our hearts forget Earth's homely joys and her bright hours of bliss? Has heaven a spell divine enough for this? For who the pleasure of the spring shall tell When on the leafless stalk the brown buds swell, When the grass brightens and the days grow long, And little birds break out in rippling song? O sweet the dropping eve, the blush of morn, The starlit sky, the rustling fields of corn, The soft airs blowing from the freshening seas, The sunflecked shadow of the stately trees, The mellow thunder and the lulling rain, The warm, delicious, happy summer rain, When the grass brightens and the days grow long, And little birds break out in rippling song! O beauty manifold, from morn till night, Dawn's flush, noon's blaze and sunset's tender light! O fair, familiar features, changes sweet Of her revolving seasons, storm and sleet And golden calm, as slow she wheels through space, From snow to roses, - and how dear her face, When the grass brightens, when the days grow long, And little birds break out in rippling song! O happy earth! O home so well beloved! What recompense have we, from thee removed? One hope we have that overtops the whole, - The hope of finding every vanished soul, We love and long for daily, and for this Gladly we turn from thee, and all thy bliss, Even at thy loveliest, when the days are long, And little birds break out in rippling song.