The Morning Drive.
By Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow
FOR MY DAUGHTER MARGARET.
Very like to a dream,
Doth the time to me seem,
When with thee a young girl by my side,
One of summer's fine days,
In a one pony chaise,
We commenced in the morning our ride.
By the pine grove and nook,
Over bridge and through brook,
Quite at random we drove without fear;
While the birds of the grove,
In sweet harmony strove,
By their concert of music to cheer.
With none to molest us,
No home cares to press us,
Farther onward, and onward we roam;
But at length the skies lower,
And unhoped for the shower
Finds us many miles distant from home.
Even so is life's day,
Like a fair morn in May,
With hope's bright bow of promise it cheers;
But long before night,
The sun that so bright
In the morning had shone, disappears.
Do not then I entreat,
My beloved Margaret,
Be content with this world for thy portion;
Let ambition soar higher,
E'en above earth aspire,
And to God give thy heart's true devotion.
April 29, 1853.
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