How silent comes this gentle wind
And fans the grass and corn
It leaves a thousand thoughts behind
Of happiness forlorn
The memory of my happier days
When I was hale and young
Where still my boyish fancy strays
Corn fields and woods among


It fans among the lazy weed[s]
And stirs the wild flowers leaves
Sweet is the playful noise it breeds
While the heart its joys receives
While listening to the gentle sounds
That murmer thro' the grass
And much I love the airy rounds
Of crows that o'er me pass


And larks that fly above the corn
Frit by a jilted stone
A few yards high at eve or morn
Then drop and hide alone
I love to see the breeze at eve
Go winnowing oer the land
And partridges their dwellings leave
And call on either hand


I love the all — that nature loves
The water earth and sky
The greeness of the leafy groves
Brown fallows rising high
The breezes of the early morn
The early evening breeze
The Brown Larks mattin in the corn
The rooks song in the trees


I love the haunts of solitude
The coverts of the free
Where man n'er ventures to intrude
And God gives peace to me
Where all I hear and all I see
In peace of freedom roam
Here shall my hearts own dwelling be
And find itself at home
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