PICTURES OF COMFORT
A hill, whose woodland crown casts changing shadows,—
A brook, 'midst banks of sedgy reed and fern,—
Green lines of trees, where wreathing vines add beauty,
And bird-wings sweep in many a graceful turn.
A brook, 'midst banks of sedgy reed and fern,—
Green lines of trees, where wreathing vines add beauty,
And bird-wings sweep in many a graceful turn.
Tall lilacs, tapping at an open window,—
Roses whose breath of sweetness fills the air,—
A face within the casement fair and saintly,
With holy eyes and lustrous wealth of hair.
Roses whose breath of sweetness fills the air,—
A face within the casement fair and saintly,
With holy eyes and lustrous wealth of hair.
The sound of busy feet at household duties,—
Homes countless littles wherewith life is blest,—
Fair helping hands, outstretched through love's devotion,
And kindly words breathing of happy rest.
Homes countless littles wherewith life is blest,—
Fair helping hands, outstretched through love's devotion,
And kindly words breathing of happy rest.
To-night I sit where city chimneys cluster,
A murky twilight in my sombre room,
Tired with the day, and weakly prone to murmur,
And shroud my heart, as night is robed, in gloom.
A murky twilight in my sombre room,
Tired with the day, and weakly prone to murmur,
And shroud my heart, as night is robed, in gloom.
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