"Now have young April and the blue-eyed May
Vanished awhile, and lo! the glorious June
(While nature ripens in his burning noon)
Comes like a young inheritor; and gay,
Although his parent months have passed away:
But his green crown shall wither, and the tune
That ushered in his birth, be silent soon,
And in the strength of youth shall soon decay.”
PROCTOR How beautiful is morning! It opens the nightfolded blossoms, bids the tuneful choir enliven the woodlands with their music, and summons man to his daily toil.
“Oh! timely happy, timely wise,
Hearts that with rising morn arise!
Eyes that the beam celestial view,
Which evermore makes all things new!
New every morning is the love
Our wakening and uprising prove;
Through sleep and darkness safely brought,
Restored to life, and power, and thought.
“ New mercies, each returning day,
Hover around us while we pray;