From yonder mountain top, where breezes wail, I gaze upon the distant vale below, And dream of freedom, from the worldly trail, In the arms of Nature, where the green grass grows.

The voice of water, rippling through the glade, Calls to the heart, to wander far and wide, Where the vivid forest with its coolness made, Wraps its magic calmness, like a flowing tide.

• William Hazlitt