Poems (Stephens)/The sunbeam

by Eliza Jane Stephens

For works with similar titles, see The Sunbeam.

THE SUNBEAM.

I am a ray of sunlight,
 A gorgeous dazzling thing
And fit about for pastime,
 Like Lind upon the wing.

I rest upon the forest,
 And as the leaves untold,
I give to them their colors,
 Of purest green and gold.

I glance upon the river
 Before as dark as night,
Anon 'tis rolling onward
 A wondrous flood of light.

I dart within the lily
 To find the dew-drop there,
And joy to make it sparkling
 As any jewel rare.

I tint the clouds of evening
 With deep and varied he,
And every morning give them
 A shade of something new.

I burnish well the castle,
 The halls of wealth and pride,
For what were all their splendors
 If they had naught beside!

I visit oft the cottage,
 And look in at the door,
Because I know the children
 Are playing on the floor.

I gild the pagan temple—
 The Christian's house of prayer—
The foulest, as the purest,
 Are objects of my care.

The aged and the infant—
 The cradle and the bier—
I touch them all, but kindly,
 As well the smile and tear.

And love awhile to linger
 Upon the grassy sod
That hides the mortal vesture
 Of souls returned to God.

Oh mine's a pleasant mission,
 So full it is of love
And easily accomplished,
 While floating here above.