Old Year Leaves Being Old Verses Revised: By H. T. Mackenzie Bell ... New Edition |
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THE WARBLERS' MISSION. |
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 | Old Year Leaves |  |
232
THE WARBLERS' MISSION.
One bright day, sad and weary,
I wandered the fields,
Which often, when dreary,
Much happiness yields,—
Yet not softest of sighing
Of sweet summer breeze,
Nor the beauties near lying,
My burden could ease.
I wandered the fields,
Which often, when dreary,
Much happiness yields,—
Yet not softest of sighing
Of sweet summer breeze,
Nor the beauties near lying,
My burden could ease.
But a bird's note of gladness,
Clear borne on the air,
Changed my sense of strange sadness
And sorrowful care;—
And full soon o'er me stealing,
In place of my grief,
Came a rapturous feeling
Of peace and relief.
Clear borne on the air,
Changed my sense of strange sadness
And sorrowful care;—
And full soon o'er me stealing,
In place of my grief,
Came a rapturous feeling
Of peace and relief.
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Then I wondered if pinions
Were given birds thus
To work, mid God's dominions,
A mission to us;—
Of shedding, midst sadness,
Rejoicing and love,
And through soothing and gladness,
To guide us above.
Were given birds thus
To work, mid God's dominions,
A mission to us;—
Of shedding, midst sadness,
Rejoicing and love,
And through soothing and gladness,
To guide us above.
So perchance they flew ever,
Devoting their days
With ceaseless endeavour
To carolling praise:—
As true types, though terrestrial,
Till song-time be o'er,
Of the angels celestial
Who chant and adore.
Devoting their days
With ceaseless endeavour
To carolling praise:—
As true types, though terrestrial,
Till song-time be o'er,
Of the angels celestial
Who chant and adore.
| Old Year Leaves | |