The Knickerbocker/Volume 63/Number 6/A Morning Rhyme

by Sara Cox

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A MORNING RHYME.

 

     The drops of rainThat fell, last week, upon the earth's gray mould,To-day have wakened flowers of blue, and gold,And purple stain.

     And hath the griefThat fell upon my life, as 'storms of rain'Fall with relentless force upon the plain,Brought forth no leaf?

     I know to-dayIt was an angel's hand I thought so cold,That from the sepulchre, in my soul, rolledThe stone away,

     And bade appearThe amaranthine flowers of Faith and Trust,That might have slumbered on low in the dustFor many a year.

     So, when fair mornFlingeth the veil of sunshine on the hills,The greenwood bird its song of gladness trills,For day new-born;

     I do no less—My spirit rises, on a strong, fleet wing,To Him, the Author of this joyous spring,In thankfulness.

Sara Cox.