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SPRING. |
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But if the days of pain and gloom,
And sunny hours of glee, So strangely blended in the past,
Should be forgot by thee; Yet think, I pray thee, of the hours '
Spent in devotion sweet, Far from a heartless world away,
At the Redeemer's feet!
Thou canst not well forget thy bliss,
When, at the shrine of prayer, Lock'd in each other's arms we knelt
To place our offering there. 0, then, at twilight's sacred hour,
"When .thou shalt bend the knee, Think of the friend so far away,
Who breathes her prayer for thee!
1841.
SPRING.
'Twas morn—the sun was pouring forth
His floods of silver light; All nature smiled, the brilliant earth '
With new-fiush'd charms was bright; For Spring had come with noiseless tread
To wake earth's sleeping bloom, And zephyrs sweet around me spread
Their soft and rich perfume. |
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