' ' Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies, 

 Bath'd in soft airs, and fed with dew, 

 What more than magic in you lies, 



To fill the heart's fond view ? 

 In childhood's sports, companions gay, 

 In sorrow, on Life's downward way, 

 How soothing ! in our last decay 

 Memorials prompt and time. 



" Ye dwell beside our paths and homes. 

 Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow, 

 And guilty man, where'er he roams. 

 Your innocent mirth may borrow. 

 The birds of air before us fleet. 

 They cannot brook our shame to meet — 

 But we may taste your solace sweet 

 And come again to-morrow. 



I 



" Ye fearless in your nests abide — 



Nor may we sconi, too proudly wise, 

 Your silent lessons, undescried 



By all but lowly eyes : 

 For ye could draw th' admiring gaze 

 Of Him who worlds and hearts surveys ; 

 Your order wild, your fiagi'ant maze. 

 He taught us how to prize." 



Keblc. 



