Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Female Piety

Female Piety.

'Tis sweet to see the opening rose Spread its fair bosom to the sky;'Tis sweet to view, at twilight's close, The heavens' bespangled canopy.

'Tis sweet, amid the vernal grove, To hear the thrush's fervent lay,Or lark, that wings his flight above, To hail the dawning of the day.

But sweeter far is maiden's eye Upraised to heaven in pious prayer,When, bathed in tears, she looks on high, What sacred eloquence is there!

Oh! sweeter far that sacred name, "My Father!" uttered by her tongue;And sweeter when her heavenly flame Ascends in pious, holy song.

Oh! sweet when on the bended knee, Her thoughts, her spirit mount aboveIn pious, deep-felt ecstacy, To realms of everlasting love!