[Written for the Sentinel.]


When the lark pours forth his birdling speech,
As the sunrise gilds the sky;
When the diamond dew, with its sparkling hue,
On the meadow grass doth lie—
What seest thou most in the flaming east?
Is it God who speaks to thee?
Hast thou done thy part with a reverent heart?
Hast thou eyes that long to see?

Then gather the beams of the golden light,
And store them within thy breast.
Here a word of cheer, there a smile sincere,
Will comfort some heart distressed.
From the willowy hedge, from the very air
Comes a counseling word to thee:
If for freedom ye long, 'tis the gladsome song
That setteth the bondsman free.

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