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84
A PHOTOGRAPH ON THE RED GOLD.
Jersey, 1867.
About the knoll the airs blew fresh and brisk,And, musing as I sat, I held my watch
Upon my open palm; its smooth bright disk
Was uppermost, and so it came to catch,
And dwarf, the figure of a waving tree,
Backed by the West. A tiny sunshine peeped
About a tiny elm,—and both were steeped
In royal metal, flaming ruddily:
How lovely was that vision to behold!
How passing sweet that fairy miniature,
That streamed and flickered o'er the burning gold!
God of small things and great! do Thou ensure
Thy gift of sight, till all my days are told,
Bless all its bliss, and keep its pleasures pure!
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