The daphne shall greet The aërial feet Of us all in our happiest smile! And Beauty shall bring Her own daughters in Spring, To be charmed with its odour awhile! A fairy shall stoop With a magical hoop, To decoy the light woodbine along! And under its shade Shall a beautiful maid Entertain the fond youth with her song! The visions of love We have brought from above, To the fairest on earth shall be given; And when light shall adorn The sweet opening morn, We will fly up again to our heaven! REFLECTIONS ON TIME AND ETERNITY, SUGGESTED BY THE CLOSE OF ANOTHER YEAR. 1848. TIME, on whose unrestrained career The swift revolving seasons roll, Speaks loudly in the waning year To every fleeting, deathless soul, Of hours profusely sacrificed, And mercies but too lightly prized. The solemn admonition finds An echo in each living heart, Its myriads to incur the smart The nursling of unnumbered cares, That hangs upon the mother's breast, But banquets on and sinks to rest, Nor dreams that it is born to be An heir of immortality. The youth, unmindful of those sweets That happily to youth pertain, With ardent expectation greets The future as his only gain, But hope, that cheers him proudly on, Is lost before the prize is won. And now by sterner duties tried, The thoughtful man laments to see His cherished hours so swiftly glide To swell one vast immensity That soon in wretchedness or peace, His intercourse with Time must cease. The aged sire, if yet he can Reflect when all is waning fast, Discovers that the longest span Of human life is quickly past, And that the rest for which we crave Is found but in the silent grave. Oh, fearful thought! that what we more Than every other comfort need, And heaven supplies in bounteous store, And madly toil on earth to meet The even pulse, the tranquil breath, Is following with unwearied stealth; While trembling winds in anguish swell The burthen of the funeral knell. To those who fear the doleful sound May next be heard to mourn for them, Wisdom, and grace, and strength abound In Christ, the Child of Bethlehem: Then come who lack this heavenly store, And hunger ye and thirst no more. WRITTEN ON EASTER SUNDAY, APRIL 20, 1851, AFTER THE PERFORMANCE OF A SURGICAL OPERATION ON MY RIGHT CHEEK. How little does the soul regard The flesh it has resigned on earth, When death reveals the bright reward That portion of my suffering cheek No more again I care to seek, Though once it was so dearly prized. And so when all this body dies, And heaven appears before my The soul will disregard it too. view, |