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This sheds a lustre o'er the darken'd skies,
When the thick clouds of care and sorrow roll;
This, when the storms descend, and billows rise,
Holds a firm anchor to the troubled soul.
This, when the bloom of youth, the hour of ease,
And star of fortune veil their fickle ray,
When friendship's smile, and love's fond accents cease,
Shall lead to raptures more sublime than they.
This, from the wreck of joy that hope shall bring,
Whose bright eye pierces thro' the mists of time;
And from the urn of hope shall spread the wing,
That wafts the spirit to a purer clime.
EVENING THOUGHT.
The evening zephyr on its wings
The sigh of recollection brings,
For days and seasons past;
