With a sweet sound of the waterfall, And a soft rustle of tender leaves, The glad wind makes its joyful call, And in its music the heart believes.

Why should the happiness of man Be ever bounded by the wood; Why must the sky be the only span Of life to be understood?

For in the echoes of the day, And in the night, the moonlight dreams, The heart can hear what love would say, And joy, in softest whispers, seems.

• George Gordon Byron