from "Wanderings in June"

The season now is all delight,

Sweet smile the passing hours,
And Summer's pleasures, at their height,
Are sweet as are her flowers;
The purple morning waken'd soon,
The midday's gleaming din,
Grey evening with her silver moon,
Are sweet to mingle in.
While waking doves betake to flight
From off each roosting bough,
While Nature's locks are wet with night,
How sweet to wander now!

The London Magazine (Jul 1822)

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