Wear looks of goodness—while each spear
Of herbage which adorns thy bowers,
Its head so gladsomely, doth rear?
“Behold those dew-drops on each leaf,
But think not they of sorrow tell;
They’re tears of gladness, not of grief,
That God-ward from each petal swell.
“O’er fears of hunger brood’st thou? See
How fare we of the wing, and those
Of floral life! Nor yet toil we