A COTTAGE SCENE by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY

I SAW a cradle at a cottage door,
Where the fair mother, with her cheerful wheel,
Carolled so sweet a song, that the young bird,
Which, timid, near the threshold sought for seeds,
Paused on its lifted foot, and raised its head,
As if to listen. The rejoicing bees
Nestled in throngs amid the wood-bine cups
That o'er the lattice clustered. A clear stream
Came leaping from its sylvan height, and poured
Music upon the pebbles, and the winds
Which gently 'mid the vernal braches played
Their idle freaks, brought showering blossoms down,
Surfeiting earth with sweetness.
Sad I came
From weary commerce with the heartless world;
But when I felt upon my withered cheek
My mother Nature's breath, and heard the trump
Of those gay insects at their honied toil,
Shining like winged jewelry, and drank
The healthful odor of the flowering trees
And bright-eyed violets; but, most of all,
When I beheld mild slumbering innocence,
And on that young maternal brow the smile
Of those affections which do purify
And renovate the soul, I turned me back
In gladness, and with added strength, to run
My weary race -- lifting a thankful prayer
To Him who showed me some bright tints of Heaven
Here on the earth, that I might safer walk
And firmer combat sin, and surer rise
From earth to Heaven.

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