Oh! hear, and judge him gently; ’twas his last.
I come alone, and faint I come—
To nature’s arms I flee;
The green woods take their wanderer home,
But Thou, O Father! may I turn to thee?
The earliest odour of the flower,
The bird’s first song is thine;
Father in heaven! my dayspring’s hour
Pour’d its vain incense on another shrine.
Therefore my childhood’s once-loved scene