the emigrant's sabbath day.
11
Now breaks the day of rest—his labour done,
Gladly the exile greets the coming sun.
Hush'd every sound, the heavy axe is still,
Nor waken'd echo haunts the wooded hill.
'Tis silent all—the blue o'er-arching sky
Scarce answers to the wild birds' melody;
Within the forest glades the dappled deer
Roams undisturbed, nor dreams of danger near;
All is so peaceful, beautiful, and still,
He quaffs the stream without a thought of ill,
Forgets the hunter's rifle flashing nigh,
Nor turns, with quivering ear, to start and fly.
Gladly the exile greets the coming sun.
Hush'd every sound, the heavy axe is still,
Nor waken'd echo haunts the wooded hill.
'Tis silent all—the blue o'er-arching sky
Scarce answers to the wild birds' melody;
Within the forest glades the dappled deer
Roams undisturbed, nor dreams of danger near;
All is so peaceful, beautiful, and still,
He quaffs the stream without a thought of ill,
Forgets the hunter's rifle flashing nigh,
Nor turns, with quivering ear, to start and fly.
The sun rides on,—beside their cabin door,
Within the tree's deep shadow—arching o'er
Its branching arms, to shelter from the heat
The lowly roof and the green mossy seat—
The emigrants repose;—to them the day
Passes serenely, ling'ringly away.
Mem'ry retraces happier hours gone by,
Dwells on past joys, with retrospective eye,
Which thro' the lengthen'd vista brightly glow,
With rainbow light, the future cannot know.
Within the tree's deep shadow—arching o'er
Its branching arms, to shelter from the heat
The lowly roof and the green mossy seat—
The emigrants repose;—to them the day
Passes serenely, ling'ringly away.
Mem'ry retraces happier hours gone by,
Dwells on past joys, with retrospective eye,
Which thro' the lengthen'd vista brightly glow,
With rainbow light, the future cannot know.
