Gleams of Sunshine Part 10

The hills are clad in purple and in gold, The ripened maize is gathered in the shock, The frost has kissed the nuts, their sh.e.l.ls unfold, And fallen leaves are floating on the lock.

The flowers their many-colored petals drop; But seed-pods full and ripe they leave behind, A prophecy of more abundant crop, And proof that nature in decay is kind.

But still the dahlia blooms, and pansies, too; The golden-rod still rears its yellow crest.

The sumach bobs are now of crimson hue, The luscious grape has donned its purple vest.

The forest trees, so long arrayed in green, Wear now a robe like Joseph's coat of old, Brighter than that on eastern satrap seen, Tho' clad was he in purple and fine gold.

The woodbine twined about the giant oak Blends with its purple-red a brighter shade.

Co-mingled thus our praises they evoke, Tho' we know well this glory soon must fade.

The fields are green with gra.s.s and new-sown wheat, Tho' here and there a brown stalk may appear, A dying rag-weed, ripened by the heat, To reproduce an hundred-fold next year.

The melon yellows in the kindly sun, The peach puts on its blush like virtuous maid, The gourd its snow-white band like brow of nun, While flower and gum the air with fragrance lade.

The swallows gather on the fence and wire, Chatter a loud farewell to barn and nest, And then on wings which never seem to tire They fly away in southern bowers to rest.

The thrush no longer sings its tender song In osage thicket, or in locust hedge, But pipes its notes the negro boys among, On cotton plant, or Alabama sedge.

The blackbird lingers by the flowing brook, Or perches proudly on the shock of corn; The lark still hovers round its meadow nook, And soars and sings as on a vernal morn.

The robin, too, is loth to quit the lawn And visits yet his nest beneath the eaves; I hear his cheering notes at early dawn-- To part with these old friends my spirit grieves.

But soon these feathered songsters must away, Ere winter's frosts shall chill them thro' and thro'; In other lands they find the summer day, The opening flower, and the refres.h.i.+ng dew.

The air, tho' chill, is not surcharged with death, But health-inspiring germs it bears along.

We drink in vigor with our every breath, And life appears like spring, each day a song.

G.o.d spreads a carpet for our weary feet, Richer than those which grace the palace floor; The rainbow hues are in it all complete, And tints, I think, of full a thousand more.

G.o.d with His hands of wind for woof collects The forest leaves, and weaves them with the gra.s.s, With nap of richest hues the fabric decks, And spreads it out for feet of every cla.s.s.

A haze at times may veil the smiling sky, The sun his golden locks exchange for gray; But soon a western blast comes sweeping by-- The mists depart, and glory crowns the day.

The lowing cattle roam from field to field; No more content in narrow bounds to stay; The ozone in the autumn air has healed Their every ill, and lo, the dull beasts play.

This season has its lesson each should learn-- The fading leaf reminds us of our doom; But whether like the stately tree, or fern, In hope we travel onward to the tomb.

We look not for the Winter, but the Spring, When we shall glow in beauty from the skies; Each now his tribute sheaf of praise should bring, Then hear his Lord's "Well done!" O glorious prize.

THE FLOWERS

Some flowers are brighter far in hue Than others by their side, But G.o.d baptizes all with dew, And spreads His mantle wide To cover all for half the day, From rays of scorching sun, Though some may s.h.i.+ne in colors gay, And some in sober dun.

And I account each one my friend, The stately and the plain.

Diverse their hue, but not their end; For me none bloom in vain; For all proclaim their Maker's skill, And point to bloom above; In G.o.d's great plan their part fulfil, And whisper "G.o.d is _love_."

The fragrance lades the summer air With health-inspiring germs, Ascend on high as nature's prayer, Suggesting well the terms Of G.o.d-accepted prayer from man, Odors of grateful praise; For though in penitence began, It ends in joyful lays.

THE BUD

The winter through I lay asleep, Unconscious and unseen; The howling winds disturbed me not, Nor felt the frost tho' keen.

Thick blankets covered me about, And kept me dry and warm, And weeks and months pa.s.sed quickly by And I received no harm.

At last I felt uneasy in My cosy little cot, Tho' it was lined with softest down.

The cause I knew not what.

I struggled hard to free myself, But struggled all in vain; My blankets felt the strain, 'tis true, And opened to the rain, But just enough for me to see The frowning sky o'erhead; I closed my eyes, in sad affright, And wished that I was dead.

But soon a change came o'er my frame, Much like electric shock; Oh, how I longed for some rare key With which I might unlock My prison door, for I now felt The breath of coming Spring, And heard, likewise, her merry laugh, Like silver bells its ring.

My lips were close to blanket rent, I ceased my useless strife, And she bent over me in love, And kissed me into life.

BEAUTIFUL SKY

O beautiful sky of every hue; Golden and purple, crimson and blue, With some sombre lines thrown in between, And some bright spots of emerald green.

The earth is wed to the sun it seems, And to grace the robe of his royal bride No pains are spared, nor a tint untried, And thus complete it with glory gleams.

He wields his brush as an artist now; Lo beauty glows on the earth's fair brow!

And the lovely flowers at once arise To match the glow of the radiant skies, The sparkling dewdrops at morn are seen, Close nestling among the petals rare, Like crystal studs in a maiden's hair, Brighter then gems which adorn a queen.

b.u.t.tERCUPS AND DAISIES

b.u.t.tercups and daisies growing everywhere, In the field of clover, on the hillside fair, And in lovely valley, tilled with greatest care.

Naught but weeds and rubbish, in the farmer's eyes, Drawing off the nurture from the grain they prize, And their great luxuriance sore their patience tries.

But the dews of heaven give them richest bloom, And their smiling beauty drives away our gloom; For such little beauties surely there is room.

In this world of sorrow flowers ne'er bloom in vain, Though they in their blooming sap the golden grain, And drink in the moisture of the latter rain;

For our Heavenly Father deemed it wise and good To diffuse this beauty with the grain for food.

And this wise arrangement He has never rued.