Soft, low and sweet, the blackbird wakes the day, 
And clearer pipes, as rosier grows the gray 
   Of the wide sky, far, far into whose deep 
   The rath lark soars, and scatters down the steep 
His runnel song, that skyey roundelay. 

Earth with a sigh awakes; and tremors play, 
   Coy in her leafy trees, and falt'ring creep 
Across the daisy lawn and whisper, "Well-a-day," 
   Soft, low and sweet. 

From violet-banks the scent-clouds float away 
   And spread around their fragrance, as of sleep: 
   From ev'ry mossy nook the blossoms peep; 
From ev'ry blossom comes one little ray 
That makes the world-wealth one with Spring, alway 
   Soft, low and sweet.