POEMS.
45
How there may be sad tears for such,
Which time's swift hand can dry;
Unmingled with the bitter drops
Of hopeless misery!
Which time's swift hand can dry;
Unmingled with the bitter drops
Of hopeless misery!
Tears which—the dark hour gone—will flow
Like the untroubled stream,
And gently cease, when that past grief
Is as a sadd'ning dream.
R. A.
Like the untroubled stream,
And gently cease, when that past grief
Is as a sadd'ning dream.
R. A.
THE CHILD AND THE SUNBEAM.
Linger still, oh sunbeam bright!
With thy rich and gushing light,
Through the pleasant summer's day.
Sunbeam! pass not thou away,
But within my lattice low,
Cast thy warm and sunny glow;
Brighter seems the rose's crest
When thy smiles upon it rest.
Sunbeam! I'm a timid child;
Fearful tales of danger wild
Fill my breast when night comes on,
And thy golden ray is gone.
With thy rich and gushing light,
Through the pleasant summer's day.
Sunbeam! pass not thou away,
But within my lattice low,
Cast thy warm and sunny glow;
Brighter seems the rose's crest
When thy smiles upon it rest.
Sunbeam! I'm a timid child;
Fearful tales of danger wild
Fill my breast when night comes on,
And thy golden ray is gone.
