POETRY.
THANKSGIVING.
ALTHOUGH in beauty's gleaming pride
A maid be fortunate to hide
Her shallowness of fancy, I'll wish for you no fairer face To overlay your choicer grace, My soothing little Nancy !
Dear child! You must not know the grief To which your sweetness brings relief— Slow toil, so long rejected : But springless as my prospect lies, I see God's sunshine when your eyes Smile welcome unaffected.
You never felt your childish hand Displace a sore and knotted band In settling on my shoulder.
You loosed it, though—I know that well It slipped, and half the burden fell, And left my faith the bolder.
And if the strain should grow no less Of striving in the wilderness — Only to seem mistaken, You, little angel, thoughtful-browecl, Have been my rainbow in the cloud, Saying I'm not forsaken.
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