Star that bringest home the bee,
And settst the weary labourer free!
If any star shed peace, tis thou,
That send st it from above,
Appearing when Heavens breath and brow
Are sweet as hers we love.
Come to the luxuriant skies,
Whilst the landscapes odours rise,
Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard,
And songs when toil is done,
From cottages whose smoke unstirrd
Curls yellow in the sun.
Star of loves soft interviews.
Parted lovers on thee muse;
Their remembrancer in heaven
Of thrilling vows thou art,
Too delicious to be riven
By absence from the heart.
