Fairest and best adorned is she Whose clothing is humility.

There is a world above, Where parting is unknown; A whole eternity of love, Form'd for the good alone; And faith beholds the dying here Translated to that happier sphere.

Eagle of flowers! I see thee stand, And on the sun's noon-glory gaze; With eye like his, thy lids expand, And fringe their disk with golden rays: Though fix'd on earth, in darkness rooted there, Light is thy element, thy dwelling air, Thy prospect heaven.

The Dove, on silver pinions, winged her peaceful way.

When evening closes Nature's eye, The glow-worm lights her little spark To captivate her favorite fly And tempt the rover through the dark.

Night is the time to weep,To wet with unseen tearsThose graves of memory where sleepThe joys of other years.

Yet nightly pitch my moving tent, a day's march nearer home.