But thus to see, from day to day, Thy brightening eye and cheek, To meet thy smiles of tenderness, Of kindness, ever breathed to bless, To mark thy strength each hour decay, SONNETS ON A SUMMER VOYAGE. BY E. SARGEANT. MORNING AFTER THE GALE. BRAVELY Our trim ship rode the tempest through; How flushed the orient every crested wave! Whereat, the clouds betook themselves to flight, Tossed lightly from their heads the feathery spray. Ah! thus may Hope's auspicious star again Rise o'er the troubled soul where gloom and grief have been! TO A LAND-BIRD. Thou wanderer from green fields and leafy nooks! Where odorous blossoms drift along the brooks, 256 SONNETS ON A SUMMER VOYAGE. Why hast thou left thy native bough to roam, With drooping wing, far o'er the briny billow? Nor, like the petrel, make the wave thy pillow. To their own home of peace, across the world's dull track. A WISH. That I were in some forest's green retreat! Athwart the sky-and dream the hours away; While through the alleys of the sunless wood [imbued. The fanning breeze might steal, with wild-flowers' breath SWEET boy! before thy lips can learn In speech thy wishes to make known, Are "thoughts that breathe and words that burn" Heard in thy music's tone. Were Genius tasked to prove the might, The magic of her hidden spell, She well might name thee with delight Who that hath heard, from summer trees, The sweet wild song of summer birds, When morning to the far-off breeze Whispers her bidding words; Or listened to the bird of night, The minstrel of the star-light hours, Cool dews, and closed flowers; But deemed that spirits of the air Had left their native homes in heaven, And that the music warbled there To earth awhile was given? For with that music came the thought And when, sweet boy! thy baby fingers It calls up visions of past days, |