Page:Moral Pieces in Prose and Verse.pdf/145



AS I pensively sat at the close of the day, When its cares, and its labours were o'er, To muse on the tracks of my wandering way, Or the path I had yet to explore:

It seem'd on the lip of the evening, there sigh'd    A warbling and tremulous tone, As if the soft stream, in its murmuring tide, Had call'd to the stars as they shone.

"Set not on the things of the earth your delight,    Nor give to its pleasures your heart; Lest you sigh at their wounding, or mourn for their flight,     Or sink as you see them depart.

And then shall your spirit so anxious repose, And then shall your heart be at peace, In the grave, where your wearisome journey shall close, In heaven, where your sorrows shall cease."