THE GARDEN. I SAW the spot where our first parents dwelt; No more for sin's dark stain the debt of death to pay. THE SONG. WHEN I would sing of crooked streams and fields, By hill and grove, by field and stream delayed. LOVE. I ASKED of Time to tell me where was Love; Where bursts from sundered cliff the struggling tide, To where it hails the sea with answering roar, But there the sun had melted from the earth The prints where first she trod, a child of mortal birth. DAY. DAY! I lament that none can hymn thy praise Though thousands sport them in thy golden rays, NIGHT. I THANK thee, Father, that the night is near Thy words too frequent for my tongue to say; And while within her darkened couch I sleep, Thine eyes untired above will constant vigils keep |