Beside the spring, where life's fresh tide began,

I sit and muse on many a happy dream ;

Tracing the tiny rill, that lightly ran

By smiling flowers, that bent to kiss the stream,

Ere its full tide rolled over the wide plain,

Which tinges oft its wave with deep and sombre stain.
XXVI.
Along the path of youth, from the sweet hour
When first I plucked the columbine, till when
My eye was on a larger, fairer flower,
Whose- pure surpassing beauty pleases men,
I cast a retrospective glance, and there
Life's streamlet bubbles joy, each scene is bright
and fair.
94 A DAY IN SUMMER.
XXVII.
There are who doom the infant to despair !
That little, lively, sparkling, cherub thing,
All fresh from its creator's hand — so fair
So lovely — so elate — so blossoming —
Oh God, for words to paint it as it is —
So like the seraphs basking in their bliss !

XXVIII.
Am I too warm ? Oh say, what is the theme !
The new made gem of an immortal soul,
Destined beside the throne of God to beam
When suns have set, and systems ceased to roll !
A treasure lent to earth — a living gem —
The fairest, holiest star in nature's diadem !

XXIX.
The tide of life rolls on — the tiny stream
Has swelled into a brook, upon whose bank
A little boy is playing, in the beam
Of the bright sun, with many a childish prank ;
And now his little boat upon the wave
He launches fearless forth the rippling stream to
brave.
XXX.
