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POEMS.

I.

MORNING.

UES of the rich unfolding Morn,
That, ere the glorious sun be born,
By some soft touch invisible

Around his path are taught to swell ;

Thou rustling Breeze so fresh and gay,
That dancest forth at opening day,
And brushing by with joyous wing,
Wakenest each little leaf to sing ;-

Ye fragrant Clouds of dewy steam,
By which deep grove and tangled stream
Pay, for soft rains in season given,
Their tribute to the genial heaven ;-

Why waste your treasures of delight
Upon our thankless, joyless sight;
Who day by day to sin awake,
Seldom of Heaven and you partake?

Oh! timely happy, timely wise,
Hearts that with rising morn arise !
Eyes that the beam celestial view,
Which evermore makes all things new!

* Revelation, xxi. 5.

B

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