It lives... If precious be the soul of man to man...

I ask'd my fair,
one happy day,
what should I call 
her in my lay,
By what sweet name,
from Rome to Greece...

Ah, replied my gentle fair,
Beloved,
what are names but air ?
Take thou whatever suits
the line...

But don't forget to call me ---
THINE.

O praise the Lord ! the morning sun,
From sleep awakes the cheerful swain;
And all creation's joys again,
To us,
In streams renewed,
Run.
O praise the Lord !