Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1852-12-23
poeltb.
Fer the Freeman.
THE MORNING OF LIFE.

Oh for the sunny hours ofyOulh,
When life with happiness was fraught,
And trusting innocence and truth
Were mirrored in my every thought!
When the glad spirit seemed to thrill
With love and rapture, as it heard
The soft music OF the gushing riII
And the sweet song Vf the matin bird;
when on the green and inussy bank,
Where the bright flowers blushing hung,
In the rich stushine which they drank,
heard the breezes as they sung.
Then skies Of a glorious blue did seem
To hang, drapery of light
And b, auil ronnd the gorgeous scene
Where fancy revelvd in delight.
And life was like the glorious spring,
When riis break forth in melodies,
And beauty, with hel golden wing,
Paints crimsOned gl0rieS in the skies,
And happy as the bids that told
Their loves within the pleasant shade,
Watching the changing clouds "f gold,
Beside he gnrgling stream played.
IT'S sweet from morn's bright hills to view
The fowery fields and distant plains,
When bright Antora's crimson hue
Tinges the reaIms'where beauty relgns.
80 at The dawn of life we gaze
Upon the scenes Offuture years,
While hope, with even softer rays,
Brightens this vale of sighs and tears.
'Tis sweet to view the MIST that shrouds
Some lovely landscape from our eyes,
Ascend amid the crims0ned clouds,
And orm bright rainbows in the skies.
The scene is more sublimely fair
When, peeping from her cloudy veil,
Aurora filings her golden hair
To stream upon the morning gale;
And so, perchance, when shadows hide
The futures tver-blssful sceties,
Hope draws the gloomy veil aside,
And smiles with ever-cheering beams,
Ard thus befpe her joyous gaze,
The shades ascend the hright'ning skies,
And, colond by her gorgeous lays,
Point out ouI glorious deslinies.
We start on liE's fair vernal morn,
To reach the scenes we deemed so gay,
While pleasure from her plenteous horn
Strews wreaths OF flowers on our way.
But ere we reach that blisstnl field,
The dusty paths of life we tread,
And noon pours from his burning shield,
His turrid splendors on our head
Then wearied, flinting by the path,
Amid the scenes of fancied bliss,
Blind victims Of misfortune's wrath,
We mourn nur mornings happiness.
No more the scene locks fair and bright,
No mort the rainbOws span the sky,
No more with purple wrerths Of light,
The nouhain lifts his peaks on high.
No deep.moutlIed river sends his floods,
With cooling On their watery wings,
Nor zeuhyrs play through waving woods,
In their delightful revelings.
Yet even here some shady nook
Receives the weared trlv Ter,
Whence he muy turn longing look,
On mon's bright hills that rise afar.
But when the sutry noon is past,
And heightened shadows from the west,
Show that the sun is sinking fast
Behind the ocean waves to rest;
We turn our eyes to evenings close,
When hopes soft tints in glory shine,
When SINKING into blest repose,
The glad soul leaves the realms oI time
We dwell upon the sweet relief
That nature brings to souls Opprest,
When taken from the vale Of grief,
They reach the mansions Of the blest.
And oh! the morn the glorious morn,
Where Deaths long nigh. has passed ava
Shall meet The traveller fUrlorn,
And cheer him with her gorgeous rays.
That morn shall never change The beams,
Her dewy freshness meier shall fail,
Bul vocal with The sounds Of streams,
she scatters t,agrance On The gale.
AMI since fe's pleasant morn is past,
Its scenes Of purity and love,
Oh! may view with joy at last,
That glorious morn in realms above.
THOMAS GoF