In the evenings where glow worms swarm,
With sweet airs wafting from reposing flowers,
The atmosphere of peace silently slips in.
With the earth damp from mildew,
...
Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music—
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled—
Scantilly dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.