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THE PROMISED LAND.
"They thought scorn of that pleasant land, and gave no credence unto his word."
Scorn of that pleasant land!
That place of crystal founts, and palmy shade:
Where the vine tendrils in the soft air played,
By wandering zephyrs fanned—
Where cooling waters, 'mid the verdant hills,
Gushed in a thousand rills.
That place of crystal founts, and palmy shade:
Where the vine tendrils in the soft air played,
By wandering zephyrs fanned—
Where cooling waters, 'mid the verdant hills,
Gushed in a thousand rills.
That land of sunny skies—
Of flowers and fruits luxuriant; where the bee
On tireless wing to every balmy tree
Seeking its nectar, hies.
That land of corn and wine, that place of rest
The dews of heaven had blessed!
Of flowers and fruits luxuriant; where the bee
On tireless wing to every balmy tree
Seeking its nectar, hies.
That land of corn and wine, that place of rest
The dews of heaven had blessed!
