to estelle.
83
And I know thou lovest the glittering gems
That circle the Frost-king's brow:
The insect that floats on the perfumed gale,
Were a theme for many an hour,
For thou see'st its Maker's mighty hand
In the tiniest leaf or flower;
I know thou readest a lesson pure,
In each blossom that decks the sod,
And lookest up with a trusting heart,
Through Nature, to Nature's God.
That circle the Frost-king's brow:
The insect that floats on the perfumed gale,
Were a theme for many an hour,
For thou see'st its Maker's mighty hand
In the tiniest leaf or flower;
I know thou readest a lesson pure,
In each blossom that decks the sod,
And lookest up with a trusting heart,
Through Nature, to Nature's God.
But deeper things, far deeper things,
Lie hid in that heart of thine,
Like jewels that sleep in their earthy beds,
Low down in the secret mine:
The hoarded wealth of affections pure,
A child, and a sister's love,—
And the Christian hope, that will light thy way,
To a glorious world above:
And Oh! there are tender memories,
Of the lost and lovely there,
That come when the busy world is still,
And thou hast knelt down in prayer:
Lie hid in that heart of thine,
Like jewels that sleep in their earthy beds,
Low down in the secret mine:
The hoarded wealth of affections pure,
A child, and a sister's love,—
And the Christian hope, that will light thy way,
To a glorious world above:
And Oh! there are tender memories,
Of the lost and lovely there,
That come when the busy world is still,
And thou hast knelt down in prayer:
