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50
And a grand jubilate of rapture.
Rang out from a chorus of birds;
But the few thoughts my spirit could capture
Can never be put into words.
I roamed where the summer had gladdened
the earth
With lavishly bountiful hand;
And a joy that was deeper and sweeter than
mirth
Lay soft on the thrice-blessed land.
And the bonnie brown bird in her tiny
brown nest,
As it swung from the frailest of boughs,
Thought her home the dearest and safest
and best,
As a maid thinks her lover’s fond vows..
’Neath a sunshade of fern and a lattice of
leaves,
Until noon lay the dew-gems of morn;
Like the love that still worships and trusts
and believes,
Thro’ the heat of a world’s cruel scorn.
<poem>
And the earth gave her life to the beautiful
- flowers,
- And the flowers gave their love to the
- light;
