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86 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE.
0, if our spirits' trust shall be above, Vainly thy tempests round our path shall roar!
Our bulwark stronger than thy storms shall prove, The Lord shall be our fortress and our tower.
Welcome, New Year! thou hast a gloomy brow, And yet methinks there's gladness in thine eye:
Come, take thy station by our pathway now, Numb'ring our moments as they swiftly fly!
Jan. lit, 1843.
THE FIRST GRIEF.
They tell us that childhood's earliest tears
And sorrows are but brief— But a gloom is cast o'er future years
By the first cloud of grief.
I remember well, at childhood's morn, When the dewy flowers were bright,
Ere sorrow had placed a single thorn Beneath my footsteps light—
From my mirthful haunts I turn'd away
At a sister's farewell tone, And wept that she who had shared my play
Had left me sad and lone.
And if I join'd in my brothers' mirth With laughter loud as their own,
There still was sadness around our hearth— Whispering of something gone! |
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