Such are the gifts of the poet. They are God’s gifts, and are indeed ‘wonderful in our eyes.’
VICISSITUDES.
Hast thou not been where wild winds, freshly blowing,
Brought odorous gladness on each passing gale;
Hast thou not been where the pure streamlet flowing,
In each soft murmur told a gentle tale:
As the bright flashing of its gushing water,
Glad as the tones of merriment and glee
That joyous burst from children in their laughter,
Swift dashes onward to the boundless sea?