THE SUMMER MORNING.
Soft are the gentle sounds that sweetly breathe
Music o'er hills and glens at early day;
Tis heard where streams their limpid waters wreathe,
And louder sounds as brighter glows the ray
That sheds such glorious lustre o'er the sky,
And decks with light effulgent woods and bowers,
Whence springs the hymn, whose latest, faintest sigh
Is in the air that sweeps the fragile flowers!
Music o'er hills and glens at early day;
Tis heard where streams their limpid waters wreathe,
And louder sounds as brighter glows the ray
That sheds such glorious lustre o'er the sky,
And decks with light effulgent woods and bowers,
Whence springs the hymn, whose latest, faintest sigh
Is in the air that sweeps the fragile flowers!
Music is everywhere! it seems the praise
Of grateful nature to its God on high;
And e'en the desert joins its mournful lays,
And sends its anthem to the list'ning sky.
My spirit would unite its feeble powers,
Blest with a beam from heaven's own holy shrine;
Oh, as the morning sun illumes the hours,
Thus brighter glow, ye rays of grace divine!
Of grateful nature to its God on high;
And e'en the desert joins its mournful lays,
And sends its anthem to the list'ning sky.
My spirit would unite its feeble powers,
Blest with a beam from heaven's own holy shrine;
Oh, as the morning sun illumes the hours,
Thus brighter glow, ye rays of grace divine!