Gleamed the red sun athwart the misty haze

Which veiled the cold earth from its loving gaze,

Feeble and sad as hope in sorrow's hour—

But for thy soul it still hath warmth and power;

Not to its cheerless beauty wert thou blind;

To the keen eye of thy poetic mind

Beauty still lives, though nature's flowrets die,

And wintry sunsets fade along the sky!

And naught escaped thee as we strolled along,

Nor changeful ray, nor bird's faint chirping song.

Blessed with a fancy easily inspired,

All was beheld, and nothing unadmired;

From the dim city to the clouded plain,

Not one of all God's blessings given in vain.