She is so simple in her joys,
So childlike in her ways;
When she the golden hour employs,
In off’ring nature praise.
She lifts the roots to plant again,
In some sequestered spot,
Where they may know a fairer reign,
And beautify her plot—
There, thrive from culture of her hand,
Aim to engage her smile,
Delight in blooming o’er the land
Where she will tread the while.
So God His wonders has revealed
Through her, what growth can be,
And in the process I am healed
Of blindness, and can see
That all the fields and woods are full,
Of glories rich and rare—
When she a little flower will pull,
And set it in her hair.
REVELATION
I see no beauty shining in the east
At dawn, nor when the glowing sun has risen,
And shot a million rays into night’s prison—
No lovely scene on which my eyes would feast.
And in the west at eve I see no light
That enters my whole being like a flash
Of bursting joy—swift sky rent ere the crash
Of kissing clouds acclaim their passion’s might.
My eyes have seen the marvel of the world,
All joys transfigured into mighty bliss—
The great creative moment, sight divine,
When earth, and sky, and sea, were torn and hurled
Apart, to yield her soul’s ecstatic kiss,
Which shed all beauty ’neath one glance of mine.
THE KEEPER OF THE KISSES
The keeper of the kisses sleeps—
No sigh of mine can wake her;
In slumber all my joy she keeps—
My eyes will not forsake her!