In Forest Shade My Couch Is Made. And There I Calmly Lie, With Thought Confined In Pensive Mind, And Contemplate The Sky; I Wonder If The Frowning Cliff, The Valley And The Wood, Or Rugged Freaks Of Mountain Peaks, Enjoy Their Solitude. The Heavens Hold A Sphere Of Gold, A Full And Placid Moon, Suspended High, In Cloudless Sky, With Constellations Strewn; Its Mellow Beam, On Rill And Stream, In Silvery Sheen I See; Before Its Light, The Shades Of Night As Evil Spirits, Flee. In Space Afar, A Shooting Star, With Swift, Uncertain Course, In Dazzling Sparks Its Passage Marks, As It Expends Its Force; The Mountains Bare Reflect Its Glare Of Weird, Unearthly Light, And E'En The Skies, In Glad Surprise, Behold Its Gorgeous Flight. The Spruce And Pine, At Timber-Line, In Straggling Patches Strewn, Surcharge The Breeze With Melodies, The Forests' Plaintive Tune; As They Descend, The Waters Blend In Babbling Harmony, And Soothe To Rest My Tranquil Breast, With Nature'S Lullaby.