"At morn I saw the level plain So rich and small beneath my feet, A sapphire sea without a stain, And fields of golden-waving wheat
Lingering I said, "At noon I\'ll be At peace by that sweet-scented tide.
On, on with hurrying feet I range, And left and right in the dumb hillside Gre.
How far, how fair my course shall be, Before I come to the Eventide " Where is it fled, that radiant plain? I stumble now in miry ways
Dark clouds drift landward, big with rain, And lonely moors their summits raise. "At morn I saw the level plain So rich and small beneath my feet, A sapphire sea without a stain, And fields of golden-waving wheat
Lingering I said, "At noon I\'ll be At peace by that sweet-scented tide