A poem by William Cowper

Also written at the request of Lady Austen.

Air—“The Lass of Peatie’s Mill.”

When all within is peace,
How Nature seems to smile!
Delights that never cease
The livelong day beguile.
From morn to dewy eve
With open hand she showers
Fresh blessings, to deceive
And soothe the silent hours.

It is content of heart
Gives Nature power to please;
The mind that feels no smart
Enlivens all it sees;
Can make a wintry sky
Seem bright as smiling May,
And evening’s closing eye
As peep of early day.

The vast majestic globe,
So beauteously array’d
In Nature’s various robe,
With wondrous skill display’d,
Is to a mourner’s heart
A dreary wild at best;
It flutters to depart,
And longs to be at rest.

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