SONNET.SUNSHINE.Onthe old forest, bright the sunrays play,And from the boughs hang, tinging the green leavesWith golden light that downward interweaves,Past branch and stem finding itself a way;And on the greensward, and among the fern,Some trace of sunshine still we can discern,A sunbeam's scattered droppings gone astrayAmong the wild-flowers, where they nestle closeWithin the long grass, or the woodland moss,Making for Earth a dress with colours gay.Oh! on our pathway thus may sunshine fall,And like the little flowers, our hopes still bloom,—A share of it at least, if not it all,—To light the darkness and to cheer the gloom.
Onthe old forest, bright the sunrays play,And from the boughs hang, tinging the green leavesWith golden light that downward interweaves,Past branch and stem finding itself a way;And on the greensward, and among the fern,Some trace of sunshine still we can discern,A sunbeam's scattered droppings gone astrayAmong the wild-flowers, where they nestle closeWithin the long grass, or the woodland moss,Making for Earth a dress with colours gay.Oh! on our pathway thus may sunshine fall,And like the little flowers, our hopes still bloom,—A share of it at least, if not it all,—To light the darkness and to cheer the gloom.
Onthe old forest, bright the sunrays play,And from the boughs hang, tinging the green leavesWith golden light that downward interweaves,Past branch and stem finding itself a way;And on the greensward, and among the fern,Some trace of sunshine still we can discern,A sunbeam's scattered droppings gone astrayAmong the wild-flowers, where they nestle closeWithin the long grass, or the woodland moss,Making for Earth a dress with colours gay.Oh! on our pathway thus may sunshine fall,And like the little flowers, our hopes still bloom,—A share of it at least, if not it all,—To light the darkness and to cheer the gloom.
Onthe old forest, bright the sunrays play,And from the boughs hang, tinging the green leavesWith golden light that downward interweaves,Past branch and stem finding itself a way;And on the greensward, and among the fern,Some trace of sunshine still we can discern,A sunbeam's scattered droppings gone astrayAmong the wild-flowers, where they nestle closeWithin the long grass, or the woodland moss,Making for Earth a dress with colours gay.Oh! on our pathway thus may sunshine fall,And like the little flowers, our hopes still bloom,—A share of it at least, if not it all,—To light the darkness and to cheer the gloom.
Onthe old forest, bright the sunrays play,
And from the boughs hang, tinging the green leaves
With golden light that downward interweaves,
Past branch and stem finding itself a way;
And on the greensward, and among the fern,
Some trace of sunshine still we can discern,
A sunbeam's scattered droppings gone astray
Among the wild-flowers, where they nestle close
Within the long grass, or the woodland moss,
Making for Earth a dress with colours gay.
Oh! on our pathway thus may sunshine fall,
And like the little flowers, our hopes still bloom,—
A share of it at least, if not it all,—
To light the darkness and to cheer the gloom.