Memoir and remains of the Rev. James D. Burns ... By the late Rev. James Hamilton [i.e. J. D. Burns] |
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THE FIRST HYACINTH. |
 | Memoir and remains of the Rev. James D. Burns |  |
THE FIRST HYACINTH.
No sign was in the hard dry root
Of treasures at its heart conceal'd,
No promise gave the slender shoot
Of the rich blossom it would yield.
Of treasures at its heart conceal'd,
No promise gave the slender shoot
Of the rich blossom it would yield.
And, as we watch'd from day to day
The stalk unfold in winter glooms,
We little thought it would display
This coronal of clustering blooms.
The stalk unfold in winter glooms,
We little thought it would display
This coronal of clustering blooms.
By slow degrees, sweet flower, thou hast
Unto thy perfect beauty come;
We gave thee shelter from the blast,
Thou bringest summer to our home.
Unto thy perfect beauty come;
We gave thee shelter from the blast,
Thou bringest summer to our home.
So meek and white in virgin grace,
So sweetly scenting all the air,
Surely the first of all thy race
In Eden did not blow more fair.
So sweetly scenting all the air,
Surely the first of all thy race
In Eden did not blow more fair.
Yet on thy loveliness full blown,
We gaze with something like a sigh,
To think the bloom one day has shown,
Must in another droop and die.
We gaze with something like a sigh,
To think the bloom one day has shown,
Must in another droop and die.
Is not the bud that hopes to bloom,
Though slowly opening in the shade,
More happy than the flower whose doom
Is in the sun to stand and fade?
Though slowly opening in the shade,
More happy than the flower whose doom
Is in the sun to stand and fade?
Is it not better to aspire
And rise still higher than before,
Than to be all that we desire,
And feel that we can be no more?
And rise still higher than before,
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And feel that we can be no more?
No! lovely flower, thou art content
Thy law of being to fulfil,
For the brief season thou wert sent,
Meekly to do thy Maker's will.
Thy law of being to fulfil,
For the brief season thou wert sent,
Meekly to do thy Maker's will.
Thou hast thy soul of fragrance breathed,
Thy stainless bloom hath cheer'd the eye,
And with such memories bequeathed,
Methinks that thou mayst gladly die.
Thy stainless bloom hath cheer'd the eye,
And with such memories bequeathed,
Methinks that thou mayst gladly die.
The flowerless season of the year
Sweeter and brighter was for thee,
And when my life's green leaves are sear,
May some one say as much for me!
Sweeter and brighter was for thee,
And when my life's green leaves are sear,
May some one say as much for me!
1862.
| Memoir and remains of the Rev. James D. Burns | |