146 Bird - Lore 



God of the forest's solemn shade! 



The grandeur of the lonely tree, 

 That wrestles singly with the gale, 



Lifts up admiring eyes to thee; 

 But more majestic far they stand, 



When, side by side, their ranks they form, 

 To wave on high their plumes of green, 



And fight their battles with the storm. 



God of the light and viewless air! 



Where summers breezes sweetly flow, 

 Or, gathering in their angry might, 



The fierce and wintry tempests blow; 

 All — from the evening's plaintive sigh. 



That hardly lifts the drooping flower, 

 To the wild whirlwind's midnight cry — 



Breathe forth the language of thy power. 



God of the fair and open sky! 



How gloriously above us springs 

 The tented dome, of heavenly blue. 



Suspended on the rainbow's rings. 

 Each brilliant star that sparkles through. 



Each gilded cloud that wanders free 

 In evening's purple radiance, gives 



The beauty of its praise to Thee. 



God of the rolling orbs above! 



Thy name is written clearly bright 

 In the warm day's unvarying blaze, 



Or evening's golden shower of Hght. 

 For every fire that fronts the sun. 



And every spark that walks alone 

 Around the utmost verge of heaven. 



Were kindled at thy burning throne. 



God of the world! the hour must come. 



And nature's self to dust return! 

 Her crumbling altars must decay, 



Her incense fires shall cease to burn. 

 But still her grand and lovely scenes 



Have made man's warmest praises flow; 

 For hearts grow holier as they trace 



The beauty of the world below. 



—By W. B. O. Peabody, U. S. A. 1799-ii 



SPRING IN CAROLINA 



(A recitation for two pupils, each giving a stanza alternately) 



Spring, with that nameless pathos in the air 

 Which dwells with all things fair, 

 Spring with her golden suns and silver rain. 

 Is with us once again. 



