A Picture.
A dawning day, and hill-top whose brow was flower crowned.
A shimmering sun, a prescience in air,
The perfume of peace, His beauty all around,
The trilling of birds, the glimmer of sea,
The sough of a summer breeze;
Away off yonder, where the hush of a silence mingles,
With a cry that may never cease.
An earnest life, a proud, true heart,
Eyes with the light of the stars;
A winning smile, sweet lips apart,
And a trust that nothing mars;
An extended hand for the book,
Which holds, on its pages fair to see,
A lesson so rife, with the sweets of life
As it seems in a destiny.
An expectant look, a flush of joy,
Feet eager to tread the path;
A restless impulse without alloy,
A beautiful seeming, a something within which hath
An awakening hope—for a toy,
A shimmering sun, a prescience in air,
The perfume of peace, His beauty all around,
The trilling of birds, the glimmer of sea,
The sough of a summer breeze;
Away off yonder, where the hush of a silence mingles,
With a cry that may never cease.
An earnest life, a proud, true heart,
Eyes with the light of the stars;
A winning smile, sweet lips apart,
And a trust that nothing mars;
An extended hand for the book,
Which holds, on its pages fair to see,
A lesson so rife, with the sweets of life
As it seems in a destiny.
An expectant look, a flush of joy,
Feet eager to tread the path;
A restless impulse without alloy,
A beautiful seeming, a something within which hath
An awakening hope—for a toy,
—59—
