WH THE ROBIN. 'HEN some heavy storm of winter And the clouds in broken masses When some fitful gleam of sunshine Often have I heard a robin, Perched upon some lofty tree, Pour, in outbreak loud and sudden, Strains of sweetest melody. Like some heaven-inspired singer, In an hour of dark despair, Soothing with his holy music Hearts oppressed with pain and care; Like some hopeful, fleet forerunner Of the joys of coming spring.— Oh! I cannot but be happy When I hear the robin sing. Many a bird that all the summer At the first approach of winter, Flies to warmer lands away. D But not thus the faithful robin : Winter, with its snow-drift white, Other birds, when all is pleasant, But, when leaves and flowers are withered, But not so this merry minstrel : Though in summer seldom heard, In the dreary days of winter All his soul to speech is stirred. Thanks to thee, thou cheerful robin, Learn from thee the way to live! Thus, when fast around is fading Still, in patient hope abiding, May I watch the tempest fall, And, like thee, though silent often With their tuneful voices ring; Yet, when winter winds are wailing, And the days are short and drear, Then to cheer the hearts of others, May my song be loud and clear! THE EVENING STAR. H AIL! thou star of evening, Far more bright to me First-lit lamp of night! Fair is morning's planet, But the star of evening Like hope's beacon, gleaming When the summer sunset Over golden skies, Through the spreading shadows Breaks thy cheering light, And, as night grows darker, Grows more clear and bright. When the storms of winter Lower in the west, And the sun enshrouded Oh! when clouds of sorrow And the storms of trouble Round about me roll, May some holy comfort And, when death's dark valley Then, through doubt and darkness, On my dying brow, May a light from heaven Beam as bright as thou! |