166 GREAT BINDWEED. 



Of life liave ceased, and the soft fresh gale 

 Is fragrant with sweet scents of balmy flowers. 

 And aye, amid the sounds of morn, at eve 

 Of winds and streams, and warbling voices heard 

 'Mid glens and glades, making a grateful chorus, 

 There is a noiseless vesper, and a matin. 

 That ceaseth never in those pleasant mouths, 

 When he who walks abroad may see around him 

 Symbols of heavenly things recurring ever ; 

 The dews, the silent dews, at morn or eve. 

 That gem the green sod, cheering all on earth. 

 Be they, or flowers or buds, green blades or corn, 

 All are refresh'd. That same pure heavenly dew 

 Is silent, changeless, stealthy ; yet without it 

 All life must fail, all gladsome things be silent. 

 All flowers must wither, and the hot parch'd 



earth 

 Become e'en as a desert. Why, man. 

 Why dost thou fail to render that pure worship 

 All nature yields ? Why on thy drowsy bed 

 Dost thou still sleep, when matin birds are singing 



