Altho' from the earth thou dost welcome nor chide,
Nor smilest as once thou didst smile on thy bride;
And yet my beloved! 'tis comfort to me,
To sit but a moment so near to thee.
Thy eyes bright and tender my mind now doth see,
And remembers thy speech like the honey to me;
Thy grave I'll embrace though the whole world beheld,
That all may attest the love we once held."
THE EWE.
BY REV. DANIEL EVANS, B.D.
So artless art thou, gentle ewe!
Thy aspect kindles feeling;
And every bosom doth bedew,
Each true affection stealing.
Thou hast no weapon of aught kind
Against thy foes to combat;
No horn or hoof the dog to wound
That worries thee so steadfast.
No, nought hast thou but feeble flight,
Therein thy only refuge;
And every cur within thy sight
Is swifter since the deluge.
And when thy lambkin weak doth fail,
Tho' often called to follow,
Thy best protection to the frail
Wilt give through death or sorrow.
Against the ground her foot will beat,
Devoutly pure her purpose;
Full many a time the sight thus meet
Brought tears to me in billows.
But if wise nature did not give
To her sharp tooth or weapon,
She compensation doth receive
From human aid and reason.
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