Unknown

Around these desert wilds a hue

Of changeless beauty seems to play—

Soft as the heavenly tints of blue,

Mild as the setting ray;

Their only music is the roar

Of streams that lave the pebbly shore,

Or evening winds that float along,

And wildly moan their lullaby—

As if to still their own soft sigh,

That sweetly blends its melody

With some lone cuckoo’s song.