SONNET.
’Tis beautiful to-day. There’s not a cloudTo mar this sweet serenity of sky:In Beauty’s arms all nature seems to lie:Earth smiles, as though the Deity had bowedTo wrap her form in loveliness, and crowdThe air with spirits of the waking spring.How meet that man his gift of homage bring,With Nature praise, and be no longer proud!Oh, lovely day of rest! how sweetly thouWith joys of Heaven canst fill the thirsting soul!As out from rocks the gushing fountains roll,So from the heart of flinty hardness, nowDoes burst, unbidden, the pure, fervent prayer,And, with the morning dew, ascend the viewless air.K.
’Tis beautiful to-day. There’s not a cloudTo mar this sweet serenity of sky:In Beauty’s arms all nature seems to lie:Earth smiles, as though the Deity had bowedTo wrap her form in loveliness, and crowdThe air with spirits of the waking spring.How meet that man his gift of homage bring,With Nature praise, and be no longer proud!Oh, lovely day of rest! how sweetly thouWith joys of Heaven canst fill the thirsting soul!As out from rocks the gushing fountains roll,So from the heart of flinty hardness, nowDoes burst, unbidden, the pure, fervent prayer,And, with the morning dew, ascend the viewless air.K.
’Tis beautiful to-day. There’s not a cloudTo mar this sweet serenity of sky:In Beauty’s arms all nature seems to lie:Earth smiles, as though the Deity had bowedTo wrap her form in loveliness, and crowdThe air with spirits of the waking spring.How meet that man his gift of homage bring,With Nature praise, and be no longer proud!Oh, lovely day of rest! how sweetly thouWith joys of Heaven canst fill the thirsting soul!As out from rocks the gushing fountains roll,So from the heart of flinty hardness, nowDoes burst, unbidden, the pure, fervent prayer,And, with the morning dew, ascend the viewless air.
’Tis beautiful to-day. There’s not a cloud
To mar this sweet serenity of sky:
In Beauty’s arms all nature seems to lie:
Earth smiles, as though the Deity had bowed
To wrap her form in loveliness, and crowd
The air with spirits of the waking spring.
How meet that man his gift of homage bring,
With Nature praise, and be no longer proud!
Oh, lovely day of rest! how sweetly thou
With joys of Heaven canst fill the thirsting soul!
As out from rocks the gushing fountains roll,
So from the heart of flinty hardness, now
Does burst, unbidden, the pure, fervent prayer,
And, with the morning dew, ascend the viewless air.
K.
K.