Page:Felicia Hemans in The Juvenile Forget Me Not 1829.pdf/2



the thrilling leaves, Thy voice At evening's fall drew near; Father! and did not man rejoice, That blessed sound to hear?

Did not his heart within him burn, Touched by the solemn tone? Not so! for never to return, Its purity was gone.

Therefore, midst holy stream and bower, His spirit shook with dread, And called the cedars in that hour, To veil his conscious head.

Oh! in each wind, each fountain's flow, Each whisper of the shade, Grant me, my God! thy voice to know, And not to be afraid!