I just found this poem in a very old book in our local library. There is no author name. I share it here :
LINES
The stars are dim, the moon shines cold,
A gentle breeze sweeps o'er the lea,
And softly falls the rippling sea,
On jutting reef and headland bold.
The chaffinch, eldest child of May,
Impatient in his nest awakes,
And with his rustling pinion shakes,
The dew that gems the hawthorn spray.
By mountain paths to pastures new,
The lonely shepherd leads his flock,
Light wreaths of mist on stream and rock,
Spread filmy veils of softest blue.
O ye, who through the slow-paced night,
Have watched and wept, lift up lour eyes,
Soon shall the golden morning rise,
And crown the eastern hills with light.
[COLLECTED]