 | Poems |  |
216
THE CONSOLATIONS OF NATURE.
Twas morning!—the spirits of stars seemed bequeathed
To the pure glistening flowers, that sultrily breathed
Their fragrant enchantments above and around,
And even coloured the air as they brightened the ground.
By the blue rolling waters I silently strayed,
For my heart was o'erwhelmed by grief's silence and shade!
But my comfortless bosom reaped comfort unsought—
Rainbows sprang from my tears! 'twas heaven's hues that they caught!
To the pure glistening flowers, that sultrily breathed
Their fragrant enchantments above and around,
And even coloured the air as they brightened the ground.
By the blue rolling waters I silently strayed,
For my heart was o'erwhelmed by grief's silence and shade!
But my comfortless bosom reaped comfort unsought—
Rainbows sprang from my tears! 'twas heaven's hues that they caught!
I heard a sweet voice in the breeze that was blowing;
It whispered—Yield not to unholy despair!
I perceived something bright in the waters blue flowing;
It cheated my heart of its burthening care.
I felt the soft dews when the twilight was fading,
They freshened my feelings—assuaged my sick fears!
I touched the rich leaves 'mongst the wreaths I was braiding—
That dewy touch softened—suppressed my dark tears;
For, O, if those fragile and beautiful flowers
Are fostered and nourished by sunshine and showers,
And that blue rolling streamlet's preserved in its course,
As stainless and pure as it rose at its source—
All undimmed as the diamond, deep—deep in the mine,
Or the pure precious pearl in its far-hidden shrine—
And the breezes and dews evermore are renewed,
And the wide earth with blessings and marvels is strewed,
And all, all beneath heaven claims Heaven's exquisite care—
The heirs of that heaven should ne'er yield to despair!
It whispered—Yield not to unholy despair!
I perceived something bright in the waters blue flowing;
It cheated my heart of its burthening care.
217
They freshened my feelings—assuaged my sick fears!
I touched the rich leaves 'mongst the wreaths I was braiding—
That dewy touch softened—suppressed my dark tears;
For, O, if those fragile and beautiful flowers
Are fostered and nourished by sunshine and showers,
And that blue rolling streamlet's preserved in its course,
As stainless and pure as it rose at its source—
All undimmed as the diamond, deep—deep in the mine,
Or the pure precious pearl in its far-hidden shrine—
And the breezes and dews evermore are renewed,
And the wide earth with blessings and marvels is strewed,
And all, all beneath heaven claims Heaven's exquisite care—
The heirs of that heaven should ne'er yield to despair!
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