Flings round the potent spell, And charms her vot'ries in the hope But where do I love to see The one so dear to me? It is at the happy hearth of home- XXX. TO AN EARLY PRIMROSE. MILD offspring of a dark and sullen sire! Was nursed in whirling storms, And cradled in the winds ; Thee when young Spring first question'd Winter's sway, And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight, Thee on this bank he threw To mark the victory. In this low vale, the promise of the year, Unnoticed and alone, Thy tender elegance. So virtue blooms: brought forth amid the storms Of chill adversity, in some lone walk Of life she rears her head, Obscure and unobserved; While every bleaching breeze that on her blows Serene the ills of life. XXXI. SABBATH MORNING. DEAR is the hallow'd morn to me, And, by their sacred minstrelsy, Call me from earthly cares away. And dear to me the winged hour, Spent in thy hallow'd courts, O Lord! To feel devotion's soothing power, And catch the manna of thy word. And dear to me the loud Amen, Which echoes through the bless'd abode, Which swells and sinks and swells again, Dies on the walls, but lives to God. And dear the rustic harmony, Sung with the pomp of village art; That holy, heavenly melody, The music of a thankful heart. In secret I have often pray'd, And still the anxious tears would fall; But, on thy sacred altar laid, The fire descends, and dries them all. Oft when the world, with iron hands, Then dear to me the Sabbath morn; Go, man of pleasure, strike thy lyre, XXXII. THE HOLLY TREE. O, READER! hast thou ever stood to see The eye that contemplates it well perceives Order'd by an intelligence so wise, As might confound the Atheist's sophistries. Below a circling fence its leaves are seen, No grazing cattle through their prickly round But as they grow where nothing is to fear, I love to view these things with curious eyes, And moralize; And in this wisdom of the holly tree Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant rhyme, One which may profit in the after-time. Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear To those who on my leisure would intrude Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be, And should my youth, as youth is apt, I know, Some harshness show, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be And as, when all the summer trees are seen The holly leaves their fadeless hues display |