152
THE ORPHAN'S DREAM OF FAME.
But I look back
With tears and sighs on the departed years,
When breeze and billow chanted to my soul
Their morning hymn and evening psalm; when soft
And beautiful night's silver crescent shone
Upon my spirit, and when all the stars
Were to my eyes God's living poetry,
Traced by His hand upon the sky's blue scroll
Ah! I am twice an orphan, for, alas!
My mother Nature now is dead to me.
With tears and sighs on the departed years,
When breeze and billow chanted to my soul
Their morning hymn and evening psalm; when soft
And beautiful night's silver crescent shone
Upon my spirit, and when all the stars
Were to my eyes God's living poetry,
Traced by His hand upon the sky's blue scroll
Ah! I am twice an orphan, for, alas!
My mother Nature now is dead to me.
Louisville, 1852.
