Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/111

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bidd'st the glorious sun The morning landscape light, While mountains, vales and hillocks shine In winter's frost-work bright.

The imploring trees stretch forth Their trusting arms to Thee, Who shield'st the naked in their hour Of cold adversity.

Thou o'er the tender germ The curtaining snow dost spread, And give it slumber as a babe Deep in its cradle-bed.

A chain is on the streams, And on the summer-flood, Yet still their sparkling eyes look up    And beam with gratitude.

The bee hath left her toil, Within her cell to sleep, The warbling tenants of the air A silent sabbath keep.

Thou mak'st the lengthened eve, The friend of wisdom prove, And bid'st it bind confiding hearts In closer links of love.