Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/299

 1840-50.] MARGARET L. BAILEY. 283 The plowman's whistle heard afar, To his humble home returning ; And faintly in the gathering shade The fire-fly's lamp was burning. Up in the old oak's pleasant shade, Where mossy branches swing, With gentle twitterings soft and low, Nestling with fluttering wing — Were summer birds, their tender notes Like love's own fond caressing, When a mother folds her little flock. With a whispered prayer and blessing. The cricket chirps from the hollow tree. To the music of the rill. And plaintively echoes through the wood The song of the whippowil. Tinged with the last faint light of day, A white cloud in the west Floats in the azure sea above. Like a ship on ocean's breast. The evening star as a beacon shines, On the far horizon's verge ; And the Avind moans through the distant pines. Like the troubled ocean's surge. From lowly vales the rising mist Curls up the hill-side green, And its summit, 'twixt the earth and sky. Like a fairy isle is seen. Away in the depths of ether shine The stars serenely bright — Gems in the glorious diadem, Circling the brow of night. Our Father ! if thy meaner works Thus beautiful appear — If such revealings of thy love Enkindle rapture here — If to our mortal sense thou dost Thy treasures thus unfold ; When death shall rend this earthly vail, How shall our eyes behold Thy glory, when the spirit soars Beyond the starry zone. And in Thy presence folds her wing, And bows before Thy throne ! ENDURANCE. When, upon wings of rainbow hues, Hope flits across thy pathway here, And gently as the morning breeze, Her waving pinion dries thy tear, Oh, yield not all thy soul to joy. Let not her blandishments allure : Life's greenest spot hath withered flowers — Whate'er thy lot, thou must endure. If, on the mountain's topmost cliff", The flag of victory seems unfurled, And Faith, exulting, sees afar Earth's idol. Error, downward hurled. Deem not the triumph thou shalt share — God keeps his chosen vessels pure ; The final reckoning is on high ; On earth thy meed is, to endure. With chastened heart, in humble faith. Thy labor earnestly pursue, As one who fears to such frail deeds No recompense is due. Wax not faint-hearted ; while thou toil'st, Thy bread and Avater shall be sure ; Leaving all else to God, be thou Patient in all things to endure.