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When night, with wings of stormy gloom,
O'ershadows all the earth and skies Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume
Is sparkling with a thousand dyes, That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so countless, Lord, are thine.
When youthful spring around us breathes,
Thy Spirit warms her fragrant sigh, And every flower the summer wreathes,
Is born beneath that kindling eye; Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine.
TRUST IN THE SAVIOUR.
Not seldom, clad in radiant vest,
The smoothest seas will sometimes prove,
The umbrageous Oak, in pomp outspread,
But Thou art true, incarnate Lord;
I bent before thy gracious throne,
TO THE MEMORY OF
HENRY KIRKE WHITE.
No lovelier spirit than thine
In the orbs of the blessed to shine.
As thy soul shall immortally be;
When we know that thy God is with thee.
May its verdure like emeralds be,
In aught that reminds us of thee.
May spring from the spot of thy rest;
THE SABBATH MORNING. How still the morning of the hallow'd day! Mute is the voice of rural labour, hush'd The ploughboy's whistle, and the milkmaid's song. The scythe lies glittering in the dewy wreath Of tedded grass, mingled with fading flowers, That yester-morn bloom'd waving in the breeze :
Sounds the most faint attract the ear,—the hum
TO THE MORNING LARK.
Laten e trurin (4 ,
THE BIBLE A GUIDE.
Her victims to ensnare;
All ending in despair.
Millions of pilgrims throng these roads,
Down to eternal night.
The Bible need not stray.
THE GARDEN. I HAD a Garden when a child;
I kept it all in order; "T was full of flowers as it could be,
And London-pride was its border.
The singing birds built in it;
The Woodlark and the Linnet.
A labyrinth-walk so mazy;
At each end a Michaelmas Daisy.
And two of bright Mezereon;
And a branch of red Valerian;
A Broom, and a Tiger-lily;
The true wild Daffodilly.
I had Columbines, both pink and blue,
And Thalictrum like a feather; And the bright Goat's-beard, that shuts its leaves
Before a change of weather.
I had Marigolds, and Gilliflowers,
And Pinks all Pinks exceeding; I'd a noble root of Love-in-a-mist,
And plenty of Love-lies-bleeding.
I'd Jacob's Ladder, Aaron's Rod,
And the Peacock-Gentianella;
And Lupins blue and yellow.
I set a grain of Indian Corn,
One day in an idle humour,
My glory for a summer.
I found far off in the pleasant fields,
More flowers than I can mention; I found the English Asphodel,
And the spring and autumn Gentian.
I found the Orchis, fly and bee,
And the Cistus of the mountain; And the Money-wort, and the Adder's tongue,
Beside an old wood fountain.
I found within another wood,
The rare Pyrola blowing:
I was sure to find it growing.
I set them in my garden beds,
Those beds I loved so dearly, Where I labour'd after set of sun,
And in summer mornings early.