How still, how happy! Those are words br That once would scarce agree together; br I loved the plashing of the surge - br The changing heaven the breezy weather, br br More than smooth seas and cloudless skies br And solemn, soothing, softened airs br That in the forest woke no sighs br And from the green spray shook no tears. br br How still, how happy! now I feel br Where silence dwells is sweeter far br Than laughing mirth's most joyous swell br However pure its raptures are. br br Come, sit down on this sunny stone: br 'Tis wintry light o'er flowerless moors - br But sit - for we are all alone br And clear expand heaven's breathless shores. br br I could think in the withered grass br Spring's budding wreaths we might discern; br The violet's eye might shyly flash br And young leaves shoot among the fern. br br It is but thought - full many a night br The snow shall clothe those hills afar br And storms shall add a drearier blight br And winds shall wage a wilder war, br br Before the lark may herald in br Fresh foliage twined with blossoms fair br And summer days again begin br Their glory - haloed crown to wear.