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Breezes murm'ring through the branches, Waters rippling o'er the stone, What, oh, what must be the anthem Ringing round the great white throne? Songs of birds and streamlet rippling, Meadow, flowers, and leafy tree, Make of earth a land of beauty What indeed must heaven be?
"Planets, that around the beauteous moon Attendant wait, cast into shade Their ineffectual lustres, soon As she, in full-orb'd majesty array'd, Her silver radiance pours Upon this world of ours." and: "Thro' orchard plots with fragrance crown'd, The clear cold fountain murm'ring flows; And forest leaves, with rustling sound, Invite to soft repose."
We will be gone unto the downs of Kent.... So shall we shun the company of men, That grows more hateful as the world grows old. We'll teach the murm'ring brooks in tears to flow, And sleepy rocks to wail our passed woe. Another utters sentiments of grief, coming near the words of despair of Faust. There is a tone in them of what the Germans call Weltschmerz:
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