MORNING IN SPRING.

From the valleys to the hills
See the morning mists arise;
And the early dew distills
Balmy incense to the skies.

Purple clouds, with vapory grace,
Round the sun their soft sail fling;
Now they fade—and from his face
Beams the new-born bliss of Spring!

From the cool grass glitter bright
Myriad drops of diamond dew;
Bending 'neath their pressure light,
Waves the green corn, springing new

Nought but the fragrant wind is heard,
Whispering softly through the trees,
Or, lightly perched, the early bird
Chirping to the morning breeze

Dewy May-flowers to the sun
Ope their buds of varied hue.
Fragrant shades—his beams to shun—
Hide the violet's heavenly blue

A joyous sense of life revived
Streams through every limb and vein:
I thank thee, Lord! that I have lived
To see the bright young Spring again!
Eta.