450 MARY A. FOSTER. [1850-60. Do we essay, or comprehend its presage, Or even try ? Ye mighty forces that through space im- pelling. From the first hour your equal course was set, Have kept upon your way, in silence tell- ing « He holds us yet ! " What are your records, so serenely closed. As down on us ye smile, tranquil and fair, Ye worlds that seem to lovliness reposed, All soft and rare ! We cannot open ; but your priceless dower To us, ye givers bountiful and high! Is it not surety of the love and power Of Him anigh ? Ye speechless messengers! your task august, Alike to worlds and ages hath been done. Ye orators sublime of peace and trust In the all-guiding One ! Not audibly ye speak, consolers holy, But in unuttered tones, perpetual, say, " Fear not ! He leads you o'er the rough heights slowly Upward, away ! " Sages, what wisdom do ye not inculcate ? Patient and tireless, with your unsolved drift! Again the theme of grandeur teach, pro- mulgate. Till the vail lift! Poets and singers, who attune your num- bers To the vast universe in lofty swell. Breathe on our ears awhile your strain of wonders. Your secrets tell. Oh ! stars, incite us with your greatness, soundless. Till we eschew all thoughts and actions low. Aspiring to ye and your Maker boundless. Even below. SUMMER. Over the lake and down the rippling river, The chasing sun-beams softly dance and And strike the waters with a shining quiver. Sent from the radiant bow of golden day. Lightly the breezes with the leaves are playing, All perfumed with the rare and odorous smell Of the rich fruits, that on the branches swaying, Woo the soft air with many a fragrant spell. And bending softly 'neath the enamored gaze Of the warm sun, with blushes bright and rare. The flowers droop gently in a sweet amaze. As some fond maid that drops her eye- lids fair. But joj^ously look up the teeming fields And greet the bridegroom sun with hap- py glance. And laughing, to his ardent kisses yield Till the ripe crops begin to wave and dance. 1
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