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| O GIFT of God! O perfect day: | |
| Whereon shall no man work, but play; | |
| Whereon it is enough for me, | |
| Not to be doing, but to be! | |
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| Through every fibre of my brain, | 5 |
| Through every nerve, through every vein, | |
| I feel the electric thrill, the touch | |
| Of life, that seems almost too much. | |
| |
| I hear the wind among the trees | |
| Playing celestial symphonies; | 10 |
| I see the branches downward bent, | |
| Like keys of some great instrument. | |
| |
| And over me unrolls on high | |
| The splendid scenery of the sky, | |
| Where through a sapphire sea the sun | 15 |
| Sails like a golden galleon, | |
| |
| Towards yonder cloud-land in the West, | |
| Towards yonder Islands of the Blest, | |
| Whose steep sierra far uplifts | |
| Its craggy summits white with drifts. | 20 |
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| Blow, winds! and waft through all the rooms | |
| The snow-flakes of the cherry-blooms! | |
| Blow, winds! and bend within my reach | |
| The fiery blossoms of the peach! | |
| |
| O Life and Love! O happy throng | 25 |
| Of thoughts, whose only speech is song! | |
| O heart of man! canst thou not be | |
| Blithe as the air is, and as free? | |
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