 | THE PRECIOUS GIFT. Water-drops |  |
THE PRECIOUS GIFT.
47. THE PRECIOUS GIFT.
ON SEEING A GOLD CHAIN, AMONG THE CONTRIBUTIONS,
AT A MEETING FOR TEMPERANCE.
Would that ye had a voice, ye links of gold,
To tell me of your giver.
Fancy paints
A young, expressive brow, and a clear eye,
Beaming with purer light, as from the neck
Your clasp was loosened.
Whisper, tissued chain!
Wert thou the favored talisman of love?—
Or friendship's bright memento?
Still, 'tis well
That thou art here.—For now, that love may be
Remembered by the deeds that bless mankind;
And holiest friendship, might be well content
With such a token.
Stranger! who perchance
Didst find this graceful ornament awake
The throb of vanity,—we give thee praise
For this, thy wise exchange. The pleasant thoughts
Of pure benevolence, which they who live
To tell me of your giver.
Fancy paints
A young, expressive brow, and a clear eye,
Beaming with purer light, as from the neck
Your clasp was loosened.
Whisper, tissued chain!
Wert thou the favored talisman of love?—
Or friendship's bright memento?
Still, 'tis well
That thou art here.—For now, that love may be
Remembered by the deeds that bless mankind;
And holiest friendship, might be well content
With such a token.
Stranger! who perchance
Didst find this graceful ornament awake
The throb of vanity,—we give thee praise
For this, thy wise exchange. The pleasant thoughts
Of pure benevolence, which they who live
273
Only for self, know not,—be thy reward,
And crown thy life with joy.
Still be thou true
To Pity's angel-prompting. What thine hand
Findeth in duty's sphere, do with the might
Of woman's tenderness. By flowery bands
Of soft persuasion, draw the wanderer back,
From ruin's slippery verge. Toil to uproot
Those weeds of vice, that by the wayside spring,
And e'en amid our garden's choicest flowers
Unblushingly intrude. Show gently forth
In thine own hallowed life, the blessedness
Of that meek mind, which Temperance and Peace,
Fair-handed sisters, lead in duty's path,
And crown with beauty that surmounts the tomb.
And crown thy life with joy.
Still be thou true
To Pity's angel-prompting. What thine hand
Findeth in duty's sphere, do with the might
Of woman's tenderness. By flowery bands
Of soft persuasion, draw the wanderer back,
From ruin's slippery verge. Toil to uproot
Those weeds of vice, that by the wayside spring,
And e'en amid our garden's choicest flowers
Unblushingly intrude. Show gently forth
In thine own hallowed life, the blessedness
Of that meek mind, which Temperance and Peace,
Fair-handed sisters, lead in duty's path,
And crown with beauty that surmounts the tomb.
| THE PRECIOUS GIFT. Water-drops | |