Classic Poem

O COME , little Mary, the woods are in tune
With the birds and the breezes of bright sunny June,
For the brook in the woodland to-day we are bound,
With green leaves above us and blossoms around.

To chase the swift minnow, and plash in the stream,
Pick sorrel and flowers on its margin that gleam,
And weave with green rushes a coronet fair
To crown thy white brow and thy long, shining hair.

Now warble thy wood notes, sweet bird of my heart,
All Nature rejoices, and thou must take part
In her hymn'd adorations, and raise thy soft eyes
To thy Father who dwells in yon blue shining skies.

How lovely the mingling of leaflet and flower!
How sweet the wild music in woodland and bower!
More lovely the gaze of thy worshipping eyes,
And sweeter to heaven shall thine anthem arise.

On this soft mossy bank, where a queen might recline,
Where wild rose and hawthorn their branches entwine,
Come seat thee, and listen the song of the thrush
While the breeze rocks his young in their green cradle bush.

Be grateful, dear Mary, what blessings are thine!—
Kind parents on earth, and a Father divine,
The beauties of Nature, the riches of grace,
The kingdom of heaven, and the light of His face.