The Evansville daily journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ia. [i.e. Ind.]) 1848-1862, 1857-04-27
From the Louisville Journal.l
GOD IN SPRING.
4 BY REV. T. HENsTEAD.

u1 DcltN tnlS,
Giver ofbursting leaves and gand bloom
And the gold opulence of flowers, which is
- A type of mans sure triumph DER the tomb!
-, goodly are these ranks of sunny days,
W hich the warm breath OF budding wood
lands bring; l,f
" e fling our care away one hour to gaze
Meath the soft eyelids of Thy angel, spring,
And lift his silver wing.
We viii bow down before his face as one
Who comes with tidings from the only
King ..
Yea, he is Thine; Thy hands did weave this
'' These golden garlands round his temples
All mute things know his presence and give
10 praise, .eE EnE4
The woodbinc yearns around his arms to
cling,
And sweet birds nestle in his hair and sing
D. God Of the purple Spring"
We thank Thee for the mornings vestal blaze,
And evening with her locks of sober brown;
We thank Thee for the emerald Summer days
And autumn with her nights ofweary moan !;
We thank Thee for the quIc5 Sabbath hours,
Which speak for man fhirer blossoming
We thank Thee for the sunsets FURNISHED
.-iffia towers, 7t
But more. more than for these with all thcv
81 bring,
d We thank Thee for the Spring.
Angel, thy splendors never could have shone
Upon the Orient Uz as here they shine,
Else her immortal bard from thee had known
A softer music for his glorious line;
lie would have seenthe bursting of che graves,
lie would have heard the mouldy silence
ring
With peans like the noise of many waves.
And oceans oozy charnels throb and sing
~ .a Through the green gates of Spring.
What is so sweet as clover by the way.
So fresh as violets lifting The dead leaves!
What is so downy as beechen spray,
SO musical as swallows round the eaves9
W hat is so queenly rs the jasmine bells,
Between whose walls the bee forgets his
sting!
Yet these are thine, all these, the spicy dells
To balm, the glorious tints, the caroling,
y, rosy-footed Spring.
Lover Of messy banks, we welcome thee
Back to the orchard paths and yearning
hills
Conc, hang thy mantle on the crownless tree
And scatter dappled pinks and dafiodils;
And we will wreath thy brow and clasp thy
With blooms, prefer our fresh thank-offer
OF gentle moods, new hopes, while gloss,
bees
Hum through the delicate urns that rol
swing
Around thy limbs, o Spring!
The royal blue-bird whose soft vest was dip
Long in the August ornaments rich wave
And the fine robin of thy dews have slipped
And league to sing the blossoms from thei
grave;
All spirits of the amber-budded boughs
Call thee sweet names, Bridegroom c
Flowers and King
The distant valleys and the near hedge row,
The 81 cry vault and glimmering noun
tains sing
10, delicious Spring q,
Great Pan reclined in odorous shades an
woke
The echoes of the hills, long, long ago,
And white-armed Dryads danced beneath Il
oak
Nor marked the rapid seasons over thel
flow,
The breads tripped along the mountain wa,
But all are past, gone is the Satyr kin
"A purer breath the grove and woodlar
sways,
And with better Name the fute-not
ring
OF lily-bosomed Spring.
Hosannas for the birds and flowers, o God
L see Thee in the bloom and mellow beam
Yet am sad even where so lately trod
Thy radiant feet and woke the sleepir
streams;
Our bosoms for purer region yearn.
We feel the futter of the iBsno,fql Scing
'Gainst its clay walls; unsatisfed We turn
From Summers crown and the fresh tin
- that fling
a glory round the Spring.
New PRESTON, CoNS.