colby_fam_b2_f29_46

'Tis a sweet thought that they should linger near,
And shed their brightness round our pathway. How sweet,
When twilight clothes the hills with her uncertain light,
To go out alone and listen for those Angel tones of liquid
Melody, that thrill the soul with unutterable longings
And draw the heart to Heaven

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How swift the laughing hours
Have danced along their flowery way since rosy footed
April came wreathed in wild flowers. Violets—thus sprung
From their mossy cinch among the withered leaves and
With a meek quaint gaze turned their trusting eye skyward
Like Faith fixed on things above. The rule Hebtiery first have
Child of Thing peeped in unconscious beauty—from away
The thick clustering leaves that encircle its cool retreat
May too has her offering of Beauty—myriads of birds and
Blossoms deck her robes of brightest green. Warm suns
With genial ray, swell's the young buds and prepared a richer
Coronet for the fair brow of youthful June. Roses then hurt
Their silken fold, and lend a sweet perfume to every
Wandering replys. The garden puts her gayest robes of
Beauty and the wildwood bowers are "prodigal with harmony".
Yet old Time stays not to make their charms but houses
Ever on and stamps decay alike on all I've often thought—
Of a summer eve, when the moonlight fill so sweetly on
The cool green surf, and all the fiery choruses of Nature
Were bright arrayed, that Time might pause one moment
To gaze on all this sleeping beauty—Twas a vain thought.
For even then, he was passing steathily on, regardless
Of all.

October 3rd '48
Tis a bright-fair day, and one would almost think
That the Spring had come back again but that the