Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
                     Bird thou never wert -
                 That from Heaven or near itor near it
                       Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

 ... 

                 Like a Poet hidden
                     In the light of thought,
                 Singing hymns unbidden,
                     Till the world is wrought 
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:

 ... 

                   Sound of vernal showers
                       On the twinkling grass,
                   Rain-awakened flowers -
                       All that ever was
Joyous and clear and fresh - thy music doth surpass.

                    Teach us, Sprite or Bird,
                        What sweet thoughts are thine:
                     I have never heard
                         Praise of love or wine
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.

 ...