poems.
29
SUMMER SCENES.
I. Morning.
Resplendant light illumes the eastern sky,
Ere yet the glorious sun appears on high;
Aurora blushes, and a roseate hue
Decks the blue sky and paints the early dew;
The clear waves mirror the soft golden rays;
A gentle breeze in ev'ry green tree plays;
The graceful branches all obedient bend,
And to the air the flow'rs their odour lend.
The gentle murmur of the stream is heard
In the sweet silence, and each waking bird
Proclaims the morning with its sweetest song;
The silent echoes wake, and then along
The æriel space they wing their happy way,
And, through the wild-wood groves, far, far they stray
A happy life is theirs! they roam the earth;
The sylvan forests echo with their mirth;
Content and bless'd with powers far to fly,
And, when stern winter's storms obscure the sky,
The sunny south invites them there to roam
Till gentle spring returns the warblers home.
Sweet, happy birds! ye soon will leave this shore;
Some other land afar ye will explore.
Ye never know what desolation means,
Ere yet the glorious sun appears on high;
Aurora blushes, and a roseate hue
Decks the blue sky and paints the early dew;
The clear waves mirror the soft golden rays;
A gentle breeze in ev'ry green tree plays;
The graceful branches all obedient bend,
And to the air the flow'rs their odour lend.
The gentle murmur of the stream is heard
In the sweet silence, and each waking bird
Proclaims the morning with its sweetest song;
The silent echoes wake, and then along
The æriel space they wing their happy way,
And, through the wild-wood groves, far, far they stray
A happy life is theirs! they roam the earth;
The sylvan forests echo with their mirth;
Content and bless'd with powers far to fly,
And, when stern winter's storms obscure the sky,
The sunny south invites them there to roam
Till gentle spring returns the warblers home.
Sweet, happy birds! ye soon will leave this shore;
Some other land afar ye will explore.
Ye never know what desolation means,
