Star that bringest home the bee,
And sett'st the weary labourer free!
If any star shed peace 'tis Thou
That send'st it from above,
Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow
Are sweet as hers we love.
Come to the luxuriant skies,
Whilst the landscape's odours rise,
Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard
And songs when toil is done,
From cottages whose smoke unstirr'd
Curls yellow in the sun.
Star of love's soft interviews,
Parted lovers on thee muse;
Their remembrancer in Heaven
Of thrilling vows thou art,
Too delicious to be riven
By absence from the heart.
THE RIVER OF LIFE The more we live, more brief appear The gladsome current of our youth, But as the careworn cheek grows wan, When joys have lost their bloom and breath It may be strange — yet who would change Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Our life's succeeding stages:
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.
Ere passion yet disorders,
Steals lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.
And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye Stars, that measure life to man,
Why seem your courses quicker?
And life itself is vapid,
Why, as we reach the Falls of Death,
Feel we its tide more rapid?
Time's course to slower speeding,
When one by one our friends have gone
And left our bosoms bleeding?
Indemnifying fleetness;
And those of youth, a seeming length,
Proportion'd to their sweetness.