136
Has been, and is, with countless blessings stored,
That every year seems showering freshly down,
As rich as undeserved. The holiest ties
That earth can know, are twining round my heart,—
The wife's, the mother's untold bliss are mine;
And I look back upon life's glowing morn
With fond remembrance, but without a sigh,
Unless for wasted talents, misspent hours,
For many a blessing, duly valued now,
Unprized, unheeded then. And I can gaze
On thee, bright watcher of the silent night!
With feelings warm as in that early time,
Although their brightest hues perchance may seem
Subdued and softened now. The visioned dreams
That floated round thee may have passed away,
But still 'tis sweet to watch thy silver orb
Glide on in silence through the midnight sky,
And feel, that liquid lustre falls as clear
Upon the mountains of my native land,
Those scenes familiar from life's earliest dawn,
Alas! how distant now! and sweeter still
To think that other eyes, beloved and dear,
Though scattered wide upon the world's rough waves,
Perchance at this same moment gaze on thee;
Perchance with swelling heart may breathe for me,
The blessing that I fondly breathe for them.
E.
That every year seems showering freshly down,
As rich as undeserved. The holiest ties
That earth can know, are twining round my heart,—
The wife's, the mother's untold bliss are mine;
And I look back upon life's glowing morn
With fond remembrance, but without a sigh,
Unless for wasted talents, misspent hours,
For many a blessing, duly valued now,
Unprized, unheeded then. And I can gaze
On thee, bright watcher of the silent night!
With feelings warm as in that early time,
Although their brightest hues perchance may seem
Subdued and softened now. The visioned dreams
That floated round thee may have passed away,
But still 'tis sweet to watch thy silver orb
Glide on in silence through the midnight sky,
And feel, that liquid lustre falls as clear
Upon the mountains of my native land,
Those scenes familiar from life's earliest dawn,
Alas! how distant now! and sweeter still
To think that other eyes, beloved and dear,
Though scattered wide upon the world's rough waves,
Perchance at this same moment gaze on thee;
Perchance with swelling heart may breathe for me,
The blessing that I fondly breathe for them.
E.
December, 1839,
