The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-05-17
For the National Era
A SUNNY DAY IN WINTER.
BY MARY cLEMMER AMEs.

/ hail with Joy, amid the winters gloom,
The sunny days which come at intervals;
When the pale grasses wear brighter bloom
And gushing waters sing as if the spring
Had come. o, this is such day! leave
All care, and every thought of care, behind
Me in my lonesome room, and wander out
To gaze upon the glory of Gods world.
care for no Italian sky, i'll
May only look on such heaven as this
No deeper azure smiles DER Theirs tide,
Or shades the golden light of Amos waves,
Than the sof blue that bends above me now.
The piercing splendor of the sun doth blind
My eyes, as, from his burning heart he sends
Arrows of FIRE, quivering in ambient fame,
Which fill the sky, the air, and all the world,
With dazzling light Cloud isles, purple and white,
Sleep on the breast Of the ceruean sea;
Or, like fair angel barges straying from
The coast OF heaven, they give their pennons TO
The airs of earth, and glide to music DER
The waveless main; or, sailing down, they fold
Their snowy sails, and drop their anchors in
The peaceful hills.
The snow has disappeared.
The water drops from the tall trees, and from
The hanging caves, with low, delicious sounds
OF melody and in the veins Of earth,
hear its pulses throb, and struggle to
Be free Here it hath burst its prison bonds,
And yonder laughing brooks sing jocund songs,
To merry music set on they dance
With silvery feet, to meet the The warm
South wind hath wandered from its groves of palm,
And il s,oops to kiss my cheek, breathe
The lingering perfumes Of last summers sweets
l shut my weary eyes, and in my dreams
he mir hal hal,
hear the ringing laughter, and the shouts
OF happy children, playing by the streams
l hear the tinkling of the merry waves,
Ringing their CLASSY bells, TILL the son air
Re-echoes with their chimes. hear the low
Glad voices of the murmuring leaves, that tell
Their love to the voluptuous winds. hear
The songs of many birds-the drowsy trill
Ofmyriad insect harps. The humming-bird
Plieth the air with its melodious oar;
The golden bee fits by with droning hum,
Filling the sumbrous air OF the hushed noon,
With dreamy melody.
This dream is born
Upon a winters day-e joyous day,
That blossoms like lonely flower, clasped
In January's icy palm thank
Thee, Father, for these sunny hours, which shine
Amid the Winters gloom! Emblems they are
OF those bright hours, which sometimes smile upon
Our hearts, when life for no longer
The bloom and beauty Off, spring Types of
Those glorious hours when forget how dark
Hath been our sky; how piulessly storms
Once poured their fury out upon hearts,
When we how'd DER the fallen affairs of
Our hopes and DER the graves of those we loved
Far better than our life those hours SO full
Offragrance. light, and melody, when from
The overwhelming verdure of the soul
New hopes spring up and blossom into life.
When others, beautiful, and full of love
As those, whom death tore from our strong embrace,
Gaze in eyes, and breathe into souls,
(Which ese had slowly withsrd and decay'd,)
The glowing wine OF n reviving life,
Waking and winning for themselves that love
We thought tina, we had buried with our dead