A
Fragment.
Forget thee, oh my God! and can this be?
Earth with thy thousand voices answer me;
Ye midnight heavens gazing with eyes so bright
Upon the silent eloquence of night
Speak of your Maker! Speak thou glorious sun—
And thou enchanting moon! ethereal one!
Tell me of Him.
Oh! exquisite and clear
Were those soft words upon my listening ear
Oh eloquence divine of Nature’s voice
Whose thrilling accents spoke:
“Fond heart rejoice,
For we forget not God; there is no hour
When we could live without His love—His power.”
“Each moment,” sighed the pale and blushing rose,
“The wonders of my Maker I disclose;”
And every flower throughout the garden fair,
Mingles its grateful perfume with the air,
Like incense rising with a heavenly pray’r,
Speaks each in varied tone its faithful love,
Crowned with eternal beauty from above.
“Ah! not in thee forgetfulness,” I said,
“Emblems of grateful love! I too would shed
My heart’s best incense on that holy shrine
To burn for ever.” Then, with sound divine,
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Teeming with melody, the stately trees
And graceful wheat bowing to every breeze,
In whispered chorus spoke His wondrous skill,
And their obedience to His blessed will.
I gazed in rapture on these fields so sweet,
Whose every blade bowed low as if to meet
The faintest breath of wind which seemed to bring
The thought of God upon its angel wing.
Oh! Nature, exquisitely calm and bright!
Your Maker is your life, your sole delight.
