Oh ! 'tis a glorious morn! — the golden sun,
Just peeping from his orient chambers, calls
On nature to rejoice and banish sleep.
Up! cast the drapery of thy couch aside,
Nor waste in slumber precious hours like these;
To the blue sky above thee lift thine eyes,
Lovely as when its Maker's voice divine
Did first its birth proclaim, and the bright stars
In heavenly concert swelled their notes of praise.
Go forth where Nature's bounteous hand hath strown
Her choicest beauties — her luxuriant flowers,
Wet with the tears which night hath o'er them wept;
Wooed by the gentle zephyr's fond caress,
They rear their blushing heads, and smiling greet
In silent eloquence the fair young morn.
Oh! could we with the gloomy shades of night
Chase the dark clouds of sorrow from the brow, —
Could pure affection feel no withering blight,
But heart tOheart in one sweet tie be linked —
How were the soul content to fold her wings
And dwell for ever 'mid such loveliness.
But earth is not our home — its fairest scenes
Entrance but with a momentary joy; —
A few short months, and the green spot thou tread'st
Will smile no more, nor gentle flower be seen,
Nor carol sweet of the aerial choir
In that deserted wild will charm thine ear.
Thus the most sacred ties of human love
By death's cold hand are broken one by one.
" Friend after friend departs; " — with mournful tread
We bear them to the narrow house of clay; —
And to our hearts comes home the solemn truth,
We are but dust — to dust we shall return.