“Oh, my thinness is caused by summer heat,”
I answered, and burst into tears.

A lovely bouquet of wild treasures they brought me,
Fresh and sweet from the hedgerow, the marsh, and the brake,
Which lavish such fragrance and brightness around me
That I cannot but love them for fair Beauty's sake.

Osmunda! thou king of all ferns, celebrated
And long-honoured by minstrel in ballad and rhyme,
How welcome thy shade near the cool, rippling streamlet,
'Neath the tall leafy trees in the warm summer-time.

Not less art thou welcome 'mid orchis and iris,
Brilliant blossoms, thy emerald beauty to grace;

I am so happy in Jesus now!
Sin's chain is broken and I am free!
The blessed Saviour I slighted long,
Now has freely pardoned me.
The clouds that once hovered over me,
The worldly troubles and worldly fear,
No more annoy or dishearten me,
Since my blessed Lord is near.
Sins forgiven, yes, all forgiven!
Now I can tell the story
Of his grace and glory,
Hallelujah sing to my Saviour King,
I am happy in his love.
I'll sing upon my pilgrim way,
His mercy and his undying love,
Until I stand 'midst the ransomed ones,
In a brighter world above.

I FEEL that I'm possess'd of nought,
Saving the free unfetter'd thought
Which from my bosom seeks to flow,
And each propitious passing hour
That suffers me in all its power
A loving fate with truth to know.

If you reward my love with love again,
My bliss, my life, my heaven I will deem you;
But if you proudly 'quite it with disdain,
My curse, my death, my hell I must esteem you.

Why weep in the darkness when flame and gold
Lie up in the west, and the hillsides glow
With the opaline light along them rolled,
From the sun that is sinking low?

The surge of the storm sweeping far away,
With its glitter of lightning linked and curled,
Now dashes its tossing and torrent spray
Beyond the cold edge of the world.

And the flowers that bent down before its blast,
Now open their eyes to the brilliant sun;
And from tears by the storm-clouds on them cast,
A glorious garment is spun.

At sunset I strolled out of the front gate
Not far from me, I spied you passing by
Such clouds of hair around your lovely face,
Its fragrance filled the very road you trod.

Love came at dawn when all the world was fair,
When crimson glories, bloom, and song were rife;
Love came at dawn when hope's wings fanned the air,
And murmured, “I am life.”

Love came at even when the day was done,
When heart and brain were tired, and slumber pressed;
Love came at eve, shut out the sinking sun,
And whispered, “I am rest.”

The upland farm, the cot upon the heath,
The fisher's hut, where sandy salt winds come—
The bleakest home is warm with beauty's breath,
To him that calls it home.

To him, no beauty like those lowing sheds,
Or gusty ash that creaks before the door,
Or glittering shells that gem the sandy beds,
Or foam that tufts the shore.

In man and Nature kindred spirits move,
And beauty is the union of the two:
The things we deem most lovely, and most love,
Are those she meets us through.

Long living in our homely places brings

That woman's heart is a priceless pearl,
We all of us know very well;
But every pearl in an oyster grows,
While the oyster is cased in a shell.

And many a man, with a cunning plan
To force it its treasure to yield,
Has won him a girl, while he lost the pearl
That lay in her bosom concealed.

Some with their fingers would open the shell,
As if that were the natural way;
Some with the harsh and brutal steel
Would torture their delicate prey;

Others are told that a wedge of gold
At length will be sure to prevail: