Gleam'd the red sun athwart the misty
Which veil'd the cold earth from its loving gaze,
Feeble and sad as hope in sorrow's hour —But for thy soul it still had warmth and power;
Not to its cheerless beauty wert thou blind;
To the keen eye of thy poetic
Beauty still lives, though nature's flow'rets die,
And wintry sunsets fade along the sky!
And nought escaped thee as we strolled along,
Nor changeful ray, nor bird's faint chirping
Bless'd with a fancy easily inspired;
All was beheld, and nothing unadmired:
From the dim city to the clouded plain,
Not one of all God's blessings given in vain.
