Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/57

Rh  Perchance disease his strength impairs, Or memory trembles on her throne: Haste!—ask the price of all his cares, Alas!—the treasure 's gone.

The joy of heaven!—'Tis bought with prayers, With deeds that shun the view, With penitential tears and cares Which worldlings never knew:— When earth-born pleasures spread their wings, Or hide them in the tomb, From the damp soil of sorrow springs The bud of deathless bloom.

 

'Tis sweet to hear those lips of rose The cause of holy wedlock pleading, While wit his dazzling weapon throws, Advancing now,—and now receding.—

'Tis sweet to see that sparkling eye The bosom's sacred warmth confessing, Where sleep those germs of sympathy Whose fragrance heightens every blessing.—

And sweet to know that gentle heart So skill'd to sooth the hour of sadness, And charm from pain the envenom'd dart, Would bid life's current flow with gladness. 