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Oh! in the spring and summer days
When trees and flowers are glad When wood-birds tune their joyous lays,
And nought on earth seems sad-
On their green banks I lie,
I think t'were sweet to die.
At evening, when the children meet
Beneath the chesnut tree,
And sing their song of glee :
And count the stars that rise, I heave a sigh and oft a tear
Starts in these sightless eyes. I see them not, those heavens that spread
In silent beauty o'er my head !
Oh! for the echo of that voice,
When forth His fiat went,
Thou who did'st say " Let there be light,"
Now listen, while I pray That thou would'st chase this dreary night,
And make its darkness day; Then these sad eyes shall wake and see Thy glorious works ! how bright they be!
The dove let loose in eastern skies,
Returning fondly home,
Where idle warblers roam,
But high she shoots through air and light,
Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.
So grant me, Lord, from every stain
Of sinful passion free,
To steer my course to Thee!
No sin to cloud, no lure to stay
My soul, as home she springs ; Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy freedom on her wings.
TIRED OF PLAY.
Tired of play! tired of play!
There will come an eve to a longer day,
hand hath relieved distress,
N. P. WILLIS.
I DARE NOT SCORN.
I may not scorn the meanest thing,
That on the earth doth crawl; The slave who dares not burst his chain,
The tyrant in his hall.
The vile oppressor who hath made
The widowed mother mourn, Though worthless, he before me stand
I cannot, dare not scorn.
The darkest night that shrouds the sky,
Of beauty hath a share ;
That God still lingers there.
I pity all that evil are
I pity, and I mourn,