poems.
37
I heard no softly-murm'ring sound
Within that deep-sea shell;
But, raising it, I quickly found
The bee I lov'd so well.
Within that deep-sea shell;
But, raising it, I quickly found
The bee I lov'd so well.
The sunny wings that in the morn
Had waken'd me from rest,
In death's last struggle now were torn,
And folded o'er her breast.
Had waken'd me from rest,
In death's last struggle now were torn,
And folded o'er her breast.
I plac'd her in her shell again
And cover'd it with moss;—
None e'er my care shall seek in vain,
Or find my friendship lost.
And cover'd it with moss;—
None e'er my care shall seek in vain,
Or find my friendship lost.
HOPE.
Now on the stormy waves
The quiet sun-beams pour their golden light.
What though the wild wind raves?
The troubl'd waters now to me are bright.
The quiet sun-beams pour their golden light.
What though the wild wind raves?
The troubl'd waters now to me are bright.
Thus far, my storm is past,
As sweetest hope its fairest rays bestows:
May the refulgence last
Till the dark waters tranquilly repose!
As sweetest hope its fairest rays bestows:
May the refulgence last
Till the dark waters tranquilly repose!
