YE who love the shady bow'r,
Ye who fear the sultry hour;
Ye who peace delight to meet,
Come to my sequester'd seat.
Ye whose bosoms pant with fears,
Ye who wish to hide your tears;
Ye who pine with secret love,
Seek my quiet whispering grove!
If meditation suit thee best,
Come with me contented rest,
For here each flower and rising tree
Declares the present Deity.