Page:Poems Denver.djvu/335

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A THANKSGIVING.
Father! I said, when sickness and pale sorrow
Had brought me to death's door, a guest forlorn,
When every hope seemed bounded by to-morrow,
And life's fair fabric into fragments tornn
If from the grave, I said, Thou wouldst restore me,
Withdraw the shadow from my drooping eyes,
And cast the banner of Thy dear love o'er me,
My lyre's first accents unto Thee should rise.

And I have sat beside the gushing fountain,
And heard a language lips may never speak;
Have stood upon the green and sloping mountain,
And felt heaven's breezes blowing on my cheek;
Have watched the birds of passage gayly winging
Their trackless paths across the summer main,
And felt in God's dear light a new hope springing
Within my heart, and bounding through each vein.