Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/37

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THE TWENTY-SEVENTH OF MARCH.
31
The choir that fills the summer woods with song. Now be the hours that yet remain to theeStormy or sunny, sympathy and love,That inextinguishably dwell withinThy heart, shall give a beauty and a lightTo the most desolate moments, like the glowOf a bright fireside in the wildest day;And kindly words and offices of goodShall wait upon thy steps, as thou goest on,Where God shall lead thee, till thou reach the gatesOf a more genial season, and thy pathBe lost to human eye among the bowersAnd living fountains of a brighter land.

Written March, 1855.

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