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(By Bernard Barton, one of the Society of Friends.]
Dost thou not love in the season of spring,
To twine thee a flowery wreath,
And dost thou not love when leaves are greenest,
And summer has just begun, When in the silence of moonlight thou leanest,
Where glistening waters run, To see, by that gentle and peaceful beam, The willow bend down to the sparkling stream ?
And oh! in a lonely autumnal day,
When leaves are changing before thee,
Spread their own wide influence o'er thee? And hast thou not felt as thou stood'st to gaze The touching lesson such scene displays ?
It should be thus, at an age like thine ;
And it had been thus with me;
As they never more can be.
Hast thou seen in winter's stormiest day,
The trunk of a blighted oak,
Beneath time's resistless stroke;
Perchance thou hast seen this sight, and then
As I, at thy years might do
That scathed wreck view.
O smile not ! nor think it a worthless thing
If it be with instruction fraught,
Is alone worth a serious thought.
Now in thy youth, beseech of Him
Who giveth upbraideth not,
That his light in thy heart become not dim,
And his love be unforgot; And thy God, in the darkest of days will be Greenness and beauty and strength to thee !
I've seen the beauteous flowers of Spring
Bud, blossom, and decay ;
And watch'd them flit away.
Fresh from her rosy bed,
Rich fragrance as she fled :-
I've seen, when yellow Autumn, too,
Pour'd from his plenteous horn
And floods of ripen'd corn.
A thousand varying dies
Have breath'd inimitable grace,
And mimick'd western skies :But, ah ! I've seen his fruits decay, And Autumn, too, has pass'd away.
And now dread Winter (stormy sire !)
Begins his cheerless reign, And the rude heralds of his ire
Wild bluster o’er the plain :
Creation seems to die;
When gaz'd on by his eye !
Nor shall life's dark and wintry storm
Eternally endure :
And lead to scenes more pure,
Where storms can never come :-
His best inheritance, his home,
The Storm Calmed.
“ BUT the men marvelled, saying, What manner of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him!"— Matt, viii. 27.
'Tis darkness all !—No star appears
Upon the dusky brow of night;
Nor charms him with her gentle light:
Loud, and more loud, the billows roar,
And dash their white foam o'er the deck;
And soon that ship must be a wreck!
The stranger wakes from his repose,
And eyes the storm with look serene ; He speaks,-the listening water flows
Calm as in Eden's peaceful scene ! The winds his high commands obey, And in soft whispers die away.