 | Poems |  |
197
SONNET.
[A garden so well watered before morn]
A garden so well watered before mornIs hotly up, that not the swart sun's blaze,
Down beating with unmitigated rays,
Nor scorching winds from fiery deserts borne,
Shall quite prevail to leave it bare and shorn
Of its green beauty, shall not quite prevail
That all its morning freshness shall exhale,
Till evening and the evening dews return—
A blessing such as this our hearts might reap,
The freshness of the garden they might share,
Through the long day a heavenly freshness keep,
If knowing how the day and the day's glare
Must beat upon them, we would largely steep
And water them betimes with dews of prayer.
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