Page:Poems Angier.djvu/155

With treasures from the garden, field,
 Fruits, butter, milk, and meat,
And be the table e'er so full,
 One more may find a seat.

Nor are these outward comforts all,—
 Our plain book-shelves are lined
With choicest, rarest gems of thought—
 Food for the deathless mind.
These feasts of reason charm the taste,
 And inspiration give;
A halo fling o'er household ways,
 And teach us how to live.

What though our parlor be not graced
 With costly works of art?
Its walls are hung with pictured scenes,
 That waken in the heart
Fond memories of other times,
 Of sunny childhood's years;
While gazing on them, eyes have oft
 Grown dim with gushing tears.

The rosy dawn of every morn
 That through my casement streams,
Calls forth a song of praise to Him
 Who giveth sleep and dreams;