How Sweet To Be Thus Nestling Deep In Boughs, Upon An Ashen Stoven Pillowing Me; Faintly Are Heard The Ploughmen At Their Ploughs, But Not An Eye Can Find Its Way To See. The Sunbeams Scarce Molest Me With A Smile, So Thick The Leafy Armies Gather Round; And Where They Do, The Breeze Blows Cool The While, Their Leafy Shadows Dancing On The Ground. Full Many A Flower, Too, Wishing To Be Seen, Perks Up Its Head The Hiding Grass Between.-- In Mid-Wood Silence, Thus, How Sweet To Be; Where All The Noises, That On Peace Intrude, Come From The Chittering Cricket, Bird, And Bee, Whose Songs Have Charms To Sweeten Solitude.