Quatrains

The Earth, a leper foul with scars and sores,
Lay naked in most hideous plight,
When Boreas flung down his ermined robe
And hid from men the sick'ning sight!


Lo where December's snows the deepest lay,
The wheat of June the brightest gleams;
E'en so deep sorrows when with patience borne,
Oft-times nurse joys beyond our dreams!


O, lonely pine on yonder hill,
I hear thy sighing, moaning;
Make concord sad within my soul,
Its countless sins atoning!