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PIECES IN POETRY
Reas'nixg at ev'ry step he treads,
One silent ere I wander'd late,
And heard the voice of love; The turtle thus address'd her mate,
And sooth'd the list'ning dove:
'Our mutual bond of faith and truth,
No time shall disengage;
Shall cheer our latest age:
While innocense without disguise,
And constancy sincere,
And mine can read them there:
Those ills that wait on all below
Shall ne'er be felt by me, Or, gently felt, and only so,
As being shar'd with thee.
When lightnings flash among the treefi,
Or kites are hov'ring near,
And know no other fear.
1 Tis then I feel myself a wife,
And press thy wedded side, Resolv'd a union form'd for life
Death never shall divide.
But, oh! if fickle and unchaste,
Thou couldst become unkind at last,
No need of lightnings from on high,
Or kites with cruel beak;
This widow'd heart would break.'
Thus sang the sweet sequester'd bird,
Soft sts the passing wind; And I recorded what i heard,
A lesson for mankind.
How happy is the man who hears
And who celestial wisdom makes
For she has treasures greater far
Than east or west unfold; And her reward is more secure
Than is the gain of gold.
In her right hand she holds to view,
A length of happy years;
And honour bright appears.
She guides the young, with innocence,,
A crown of glory she bestows
According as her labours rise,
So her rewards increase: Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
And all her paths are peace.
A Morning in Spring.
Lo! the bright, the rosy morning,
Cheerful spring, with smiles returning,
Nature now in all her beauty,
Prompts me to the pleasing duty,
See the early blossoms springing,
Hear the lark and linnet singing,
Vernal music, softly sounding,
Echoes through the verdant grove!
Nature now with life abounding,
Now the kind refreshing showers,
Springing grass, and painted flowers,
Now their vernal dress assuming.
Odour9 now the air perfuming,
Praise to thee, thou great Creator!
Praise he thine from ev'ry tongue: Join, my soul, with ev'ry creature;
Join the universal song!
For ten thousand blessings giv'n;
For the richest gifts bestow'd; Sound his praise through earth and heav'n i
Sound Jehovah's praise aloud!
An Evening Hymn.
I'll sing my Maker's praise;
His providence and grace.
But how my childhood runs to waste!
My sins, how great their sum! Lord, give me pardon for the past,
And strength for days to come.
I lay my body down to sleep;
Let angels guard my head, .
Their watch around my bed.
With cheerful heart I close my eyes,
And in the morning let me rise,
When poverty in vile attire,
Shrink! from the biting blast, Or hovers o'er the pigmy fire,
And fears it will not last;
When the fond mother hugs her child
Still closer to her breast;
Scarce feels that it is prest;—
Then let your bounteous hand extend
Its blessings to the poor; Nor spurn the wretched while they bend
All suppliant at your door.
Acknowledgment of Divine Favours.
How many poor I see!
For all his gifts to me!
Not more than others I deserve,
Yet God has given me more;
Or beg from door to door.
How many children in the street,
Half naked, I behold!
And cover'd from the cold!
While some poor creatures scarce can tell
Where they may lay their head, I have a home wherein to dwell,
And rest upon my bed.
While others early learn to swear,
And curse, and lie, and steal, Lord! I am taught thy name to fear,
And do thy holy will.
Are these thy favours, day by day,
Gratitude to the Supreme Being.
How cheerful along the gay mead,
The flocks, as they carelessly feed
The myrtles that shade the gay bowers,
Trees, plants, cooling; fruits, and sweet flowers, All rise to the praise of my God.
Shall man, the great master of all,
The only insensible prove? Forbid it, fair Gratitude's call!
Forbid it, Devotion and Love!
The Lord, who such wonders could raise,
My lips shall incessantly praise;
Friendship. Friendship, peculiar boon of heav'n,
The noble mind's delight and pride, To men and angels only giv'n,
To all the lower world deny'd.
While love, unknown among the blest,
The savage and the human breast
With bright, but oft destructive gleam,
The lambent glories only beam
Thy gentle flows of guiltless joys,
la vain for thee the tyrant sighs,
Directress of the brave and just,
And let the tortures of mistrust
Nor shall thine ardours cease to glow,
What rais'd our virtue here below,
Compassion and Foregiveness.
I Heap the voice of wo;
A brother mortal mourns:
My heart his sighs returns.
I hear the thirsty cry,