When Lydia Smiles, I Seem To See The Walls Around Me Fade And Flee; And, Lo, In Haunts Of Hart And Hind I Seem With Lovely Rosalind, In Arden 'Neath The Greenwood Tree: The Day Is Drowsy With The Bee, And One Wild Bird Flutes Dreamily, And All The Mellow Air Is Kind, When Lydia Smiles. Ah, Me! What Were This World To Me Without Her Smile!--What Poetry, What Glad Hesperian Paths I Find Of Love, That Lead My Soul And Mind To Happy Hills Of Arcady, When Lydia Smiles!