'Where'er You Walk'
Poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade
Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade;
Where'er you tread, the blushing flowers shall rise,
And all things flourish, where you turn your eyes.
Oh! How I long with you to pass my days,
Invoke the muses, and resound your praise!
Your praise the birds shall chant from ev'ry grove
And winds shall waft it to the pow'rs above,
But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain,
The wond'ring forests soon should dance again;
The moving mountains here the powerful call
And headlong streams hang listen'ng in their fall!
But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,
The lowing herds to murm'ring brooks retreat,
To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
Ye Gods! and is there no relief from Love?
But soon the sun with milder rays descends,
To the cool ocean, where his journey ends.
On me love's fiercer flames forever prey,
By night he scorches, as he burns by day.
This poem was set to music by Handel for his 1744 opera 'Semele' and the song has proved enduringly popular.
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