“WHILE BEAMS OF ORIENT LIGHT SHOOT WIDE AND HIGH”
WHILE beams of orient light shoot wide and high, Deep in the vale a little rural Town Breathes forth a cloud-like creature of its own, That mounts not toward the radiant morning sky, But, with a less ambitious sympathy, Hangs o’er its Parent waking to the cares Troubles and toils that every day prepares. So Fancy, to the musing Poet’s eye, Endears that Lingerer. And how blest her sway (Like influence never may my soul reject) 10 If the calm Heaven, now to its zenith decked With glorious forms in numberless array, To the lone shepherd on the hills disclose Gleams from a world in which the saints repose. Jan. 1, 1843.