No clouds at dawn, but as the sun climbed | From the low sun the rain-fringe swept aside, Bright in his rosy glow, And wide a splendor streamed through all the sky; O'er sea and land one soft, delicious Slow faded the sweet light, and peacefully Such unalloyed delight its hours had given, Musing, this thought rose in my grateful mind, That God, who watches all things, up in heaven, With patient eyes and kind, Saw and was pleased, perhaps, one child of his Dared to be happy like the little birds, Because He gave his children days like this, Rejoicing beyond words; Dared, lifting up to Him untroubled eyes Ingratitude that worship is, and prayer, Sing and be glad with ever new surprise, He made his world so fair! SUBMISSION. THE sparrow sits and sings, and sings; Softly the sunset's lingering light Lies rosy over rock and turf, And reddens where the restless surf Tosses on high its plumes of white. Gently and clear the sparrow sings, While twilight steals across the sea, WILLIAM MORRIS. HARRIET MCEWEN KIMBALL. And still and bright the evening star Twinkles above the golden bar That in the west lies quietly. O, steadfastly the sparrow sings, And sweet the sound; and sweet the Of wooing winds; and sweet the sight But while so clear the sparrow sings The crashing of the riven wreck, And sounds of agony and fear. Life is so full of bitter pain; Woe is so long and joy so brief; Though rapturously the sparrow sings, The friends whose hands I clasped 297 The bitter wind makes not thy victory vain, Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky. Welcome, O March! whose kindly days and dry Make April ready for the throstle's song, Thou first redresser of the winter's wrong!' Yea, welcome, March! and though I die ere June, Yet for the hope of life I give thee praise, Striving to swell the burden of the tune That even now I hear thy brown birds raise, Unmindful of the past or coming days; Who sing, "O joy! a new year is begun! What happiness to look upon the sun!" Q, what begetteth all this storm of bliss, But Death himself, who, crying solemnly, Even from the heart of sweet Forgetful ness, Yet she heard the varying message, | So with proverbs and caresses, half in voiceless to all ears beside: faith and half in doubt, "He will come," the flowers whispered; Every day some hope was kindled, flick"Come no more," the dry hills ered, faded, and went out. sighed. Bits of ancient observation by his fathers garnered, each As a pebble worn and polished in the So in vain the barren hillsides with their current of his speech: gay serapes blazed, Blazed and vanished in the dust-cloud that their flying hoofs had raised. |