GRATITUDE TO THE SUPREME BEING.
HOW cheerful along the gay mead,
The daisy and cowslip appear!
The flocks, as they carelessly feed,
Rejoice in the spring of the year.
The myrtles that shade the gay bow'rs,
The herbage that springs from the sod,
Trees, plants, cooling fruits, and sweet flow'rs,
All rise to the praise of my God.
Shall man, the great master of all,
The only insensible prove?
Forbid it, fair Gratitude's call!
Forbid it, Devotion and Love!
The LORD, who such wonders could raise,
And still can destroy with a nod,
My lips shall incessantly praise ;
My heart shall rejoice in my GOD.
How foolish they who lengthen night,
And slumber in the morning light!
How sweet, at early morning's rise,
To view the glories of the skies,
And mark with curious eyes the sun
Prepare his radiant course to run!
Its fairest form then nature wears,
And clad in brightest green appears.
The sprightly lark, with artless lay,
Proclaims the entrance of the day.
How sweet to breathe the gale's perfume,
And feast the eyes with nature's bloom!
Along the dewy lawn to rove,
And hear the music of the grove!
Nor you, ye delicate and fair,
Neglect to taste the morning air;
This will your nerves with vigour brace,
Improve and heighten ev'ry grace;
Add to your breath a rich perfume;
And to your cheeks a fairer bloom:
With lustre teach your eyes to glow :
And health and cheerfulness bestow.
IN yonder glass behold a drowning fly!
Its little feet, how vainly does it ply!
Poor helpless insect! and will no one save?
Will no one snatch thee from the threat'ning grave?
My finger's top shall prove a friendly shore.-
There, trembler, all thy dangers now are o'er.
Wipe thy wet wings, and banish all thy fear;
Go, join thy num'rous kindred in the air.
Away it flies; resumes its harmless play;
And lightly gambols in the golden ray.
Smile not, spectators, at this humble deed;
For you, perhaps, a nobler task's decreed:
A young and sinking family to save;
To raise the thoughtless from destruction's waye!
To you, for help, the wretched lift their eyes:
Oh! hear, for pity's sake, their plaintive cries:
Ere long, unless some guardian interpose,
O'er their devoted heads, the flood may close.
LITTLE bird, with bosom red,
Welcome to my humble shed!
Daily near my table steal,
While I pick my scanty meal.
Doubt not, little though there be,
But I'll cast a crumb to thee:
Well rewarded, if I spy
Pleasure in thy glancing eye;
See thee, when thou'st eat thy fill,
Plume thy breast, and wipe thy bill.
Come, my feather'd friend, again!
Well thou know'st the broken pane;
Ask of me thy daily store;
Ever welcome to my door.
TO A CHILD OF FIVE YEARS OLD.
FAIREST flow'r, all flow'rs excelling,
Which in Milton's page we see ;
Flowers of Eve's imbowered dwelling,
Are, my fair one, types of thee.
Mark, my Polly, how the roses
Emulate thy damask cheek;
How the bud its sweet discloses-
Buds thy op'ning bloom bespeak.
Lilies are by plain direction
Emblems of a double kind;
Emblems of thy fair complexion,
Emblems of thy fairer mind.
But, dear girl, both flow'rs and beauty*
Blossom, fade, and die away:
Then pursue good sense and duty,
Evergreens, which ne'er decay!
How does the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour;
And gather honey all the day,
From ev'ry op'ning flow'r!
How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax !
And labours hard to store it well,
With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labour, or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past;
That I may give for ev'ry day
Some good account at last.
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