Within the circuit of this plodding life
A winter and spring scene
To a marsh hawk in spring
Until at length the north winds blow
I am the little Irish boy
They who prepare my evening meal below
For though the eaves were rabitted
Last night as I lay gazing
Conscience is instinct bred in the house
What's the railroad to me?
The Moon now rises to her absolute rule
Where gleaming fields of haze
Men say they know many things
I am bound for a distant shore
Man's little acts are grand
I'm guided in the darkest night
Cans't thou love with thy mind?
I do not fear my thoughts will die
I was made erect and lone
Rumors from am Aolian harp
Thou dusky spirit of the wood
When winter fringes every bough
