Gratitude. A POET'S GRATITUDE. BY SOUTHEY. ONCE more I see thee, Skiddaw! once again Where, like the bulwark of this favour'd plain rest. Once more, O Derwent! to thy awful shores Twelve years, (how large a part of man's brief day!) Nor idly, nor ingloriously spent, Of evil and of good have held their way, Since first upon thy banks I pitch'd my tent. Hither I came in manhood's active prime, Heaven hath, with goodly increase, bless'd me here, Where, childless and oppress'd with grief, I came; With voice of fervent thankfulness sincere Let me the blessings which are mine proclaim: Here I possess,-what more should I require ? Books, children, leisure,-all my heart's desire. ZAMOR. BY MRS. HEMANS. By the fame Of my brave sire, whose deeds the warrior tribes I THANK THEE, GOD! FOR WEAL AND WOE. BY ELIZA COOK. I THANK thee, God! for all I've known The bitter drops of life's alloy. Oh! there was wisdom in the blow And left my bosom lone and drear. I thank thee, God! for all of smart The sigh of grief, the throb of pain. What if my cheek had ever kept Its healthful colour, glad and bright? Then, then, perchance, my soul had not -Ne'er strove to soothe another's care. But when the weight of sorrow found Even as from the wounded tree The goodly, precious balm will pour; 'Tis well to learn that sunny hours May quickly change to mournful shade; 'Tis well to prize life's scatter'd flowers, Yet be prepared to see them fade. I thank thee, God! for weal and woe; Does the kind root bleed out his livelihood To comfort his old limbs, in fruitless winter Massinger. |