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SONNETS.
II.
TO A FAMILY BIBLE.
What household thoughts around thee, as their shrine,
Cling reverently!—of anxious looks beguiled
My mother's eyes, upon thy page divine,
Each day were bent;—her accents, gravely mild
Breathed out thy lore: whilst I, a dreamy child
Wandered on breeze-like fancies oft away,
To some lone tuft of gleaming spring-flowers wild,
Some fresh discover'd nook for woodland play,
Some secret nest:—yet would the solemn Word
At times, with kindlings of young wonder heard,
Fall on my waken'd spirit, there to be
A seed not lost;—for which, in darker years,
O Book of Heaven! I pour, with grateful tears,
Heart blessings on the holy dead and thee!
