Gentle mists are drinking

Round the horizon afar.
Round the shady creek lightly

Morning zephyrs awake,
And the ripen'd fruit brightly

Mirrors itself in the lake.

1775.
-----
FROM THE MOUNTAIN.

[Written just after the preceding one, on a mountain overlooking
the Lake of Zurich.]

IF I, dearest Lily, did not love thee,

How this prospect would enchant my sight!
And yet if I, Lily, did not love thee,

Could I find, or here, or there, delight?

1775.
-----
FLOWER-SALUTE.

THIS nosegay,--'twas I dress'd it,--