There is a singing in the summer air,

The blue and brown moths flutter o'er the grass,

The stubble bird is creaking in the wheat,

And, perched upon the honeysuckle hedge,

Pipes the green linnet. Oh! the golden world—

The star of life on every blade of grass,

The motion and joy on every bough,

The glad feast everywhere, for things that love

The sunshine, and for things that love the shade.