GREAT BINDWEED. 163 



And then their matin songs are surely sung, 



When day comes back and stilly night is gone ; 



Past to eternity, e'en with the days 



Of countless ages from the birth of time. 



! I have heard those birds, when all was still ; 



When dews lay heavy, and the deep lone vale 



Look'd as an inland lake enwrapt in mist ; 



From which the neighbouring hills and waving 



woods 

 Rose as high banks, and the more distant hills, 

 Gleam'd with a golden light, while from the 



groves 

 Came warbling voices, pouring forth a strain, 

 The muse interprets, of warm grateful thanks 

 To Him who kept them through the live-long 



night, 

 When prowlers walk'd the earth, or climb'd the 



trees — 

 The trees, their homes, on whose high waving 



boughs 

 They slept in peace, unharm'd, then sallying 



forth 



