Page:Selections from the American poets (IA selectamerpoet00bryarich).pdf/239

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
Anna Maria Wells.
235

James G. Brooks.

JOY AND SORROW.

Joy kneels, at morning's rosy prime, In worship to the rising sun;But Sorrow loves the calmer time, When the day-god his course hath run:When Night is in her shadowy car, Pale Sorrow wakes while Joy doth sleep;And, guided by the evening star, She wanders forth to muse and weep.
Joy loves to cull the summer flower, And wreath it round his happy brow;But when the dark autumnal hour Hath laid the leaf and blossom low;When the frail bud hath lost its worth, And Joy hath dash'd it from his crest,Then Sorrow takes it from the earth, To wither on her wither'd breast.

Anna Maria Wells.

THE WHITE HARE.

It was the Sabbath eve we went,My little girl and I, intent The twilight hour to pass,Where we might hear the waters flow,And scent the freighted winds that blow Athwart the vernal grass.
In darker grandeur, as the dayStole scarce perceptibly away, The purple mountain stood,Wearing the young moon as a crest:The sun, half sunk in the far west, Seem'd mingling with the flood.
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.