161
SONNET.
O! blest with all life's holiest aims can give,
To charm this passing scene—the feeling heart,
The charities that sacred joy impart,
The sympathy that makes it sweet to live,
The taste that strews each transient scene with flowers,
Still brightening duty with its own pure grace,
Think not that time or distance can efface
The example or the memory of these hours.
Oft as I turn at misery's helpless cry,
Or shield the suffering, will thy smile appear,
As late it beamed, the fainting frame to cheer,
In the dark homes of grief and poverty;
For though in other scenes my path may be,
All that is bright and best shall lead my thoughts to thee!
To charm this passing scene—the feeling heart,
The charities that sacred joy impart,
The sympathy that makes it sweet to live,
The taste that strews each transient scene with flowers,
Still brightening duty with its own pure grace,
Think not that time or distance can efface
The example or the memory of these hours.
Oft as I turn at misery's helpless cry,
Or shield the suffering, will thy smile appear,
As late it beamed, the fainting frame to cheer,
In the dark homes of grief and poverty;
For though in other scenes my path may be,
All that is bright and best shall lead my thoughts to thee!
