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The wild birds warbling through the air,
The gurgling streamlet's gentle flow,
The zephyr's breath, the falling shower,
Shall fill the soul with rapture's glow.

When o'er the lawn the floweret fair
Springs forth in vernal beauty free,
Or autumn's sallow tint,—and when
Stern winter strips the fading tree.

Still pleasure, hovering o'er each scene
In fancied visions, from afar,
Shall, with hope's smile serene, again
Glide beauteous as the morning star.

But whence this fond, delusive dream!
Those halcyon days have swiftly fled;
No morning's joys, nor evening's calm,
Can more their peaceful influence shed.

O Sorrow! whence this long delay,
Why lingerest here with blighting power?
O canst thou, canst thou not away,
And leave one blessed, tranquil hour?

But hush, my wayward spirit; yield
Obedience to thy Sovereign God:
Then shall thy wounded heart be healed,
And bless him for affliction's rod.