 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
50
To my Wife
On Sunset hill my path I trace,
Or wander down to Iris bay;
With upward step the Pass I face
To greet the Atlantic far away:
I watch the waterfalls at play,
Or Sunart's fair expanse of blue,
But ever to myself I say,
O near and dear, O fond and true!
Or wander down to Iris bay;
With upward step the Pass I face
To greet the Atlantic far away:
I watch the waterfalls at play,
Or Sunart's fair expanse of blue,
But ever to myself I say,
O near and dear, O fond and true!
I mark the slowly yellowing grace
Upon the twinkling birchen spray,
Or swallows making haste to chase
Southward the Summer's transient ray;
Or on the misty mountain grey
The dying bracken's golden hue,
But still I whisper all the day,
O near and dear, O fond and true!
Upon the twinkling birchen spray,
Or swallows making haste to chase
Southward the Summer's transient ray;
Or on the misty mountain grey
The dying bracken's golden hue,
But still I whisper all the day,
O near and dear, O fond and true!
What though we walk with lagging pace,
And airs autumnal round us stray;
Or, parted for a little space,
Pensive pursue our sunset way;
One thought life's trouble can allay—
Our Father's House is full in view,
Where we shall live and love for aye,
O near and dear, O fond and true!
And airs autumnal round us stray;
Or, parted for a little space,
Pensive pursue our sunset way;
One thought life's trouble can allay—
Our Father's House is full in view,
Where we shall live and love for aye,
O near and dear, O fond and true!
Thy love, for forty years my stay,
God grant me all my journey through,
While oft I sing for solace gay—
O near and dear, O fond and true!
God grant me all my journey through,
While oft I sing for solace gay—
O near and dear, O fond and true!
| Lyra Pastoralis | |