Thy welcome face I see,

  The world grows brighter to my eyes,

    And summer comes with thee.

  My solitude¹ now finds a friend,

    And after each hard day,

  I in my mountain garden walk,

    To rest, or sing, or pray.

 

  All down the rocky slope is spread

    Thy veil of rosy² snow,

  And in the valley by the brook³,

    Thy deeper blossoms grow.

  The barren wilderness⁴ grows fair,

    Such beauty dost thou give;

  And human eyes and Nature's heart

    Rejoice that thou dost live.

 

  Each year I wait thy coming, dear,

    Each year I love thee more,

  For life grows hard, and much I need

    Thy honey for my store.

  So, like a hungry bee, I sip⁵

    Sweet lessons from thy cup,

  And sitting at a flower's feet,

    My soul learns to look up.

 

  No laurels⁶ shall I ever win,

     No splendid blossoms bear,

  But gratefully receive and use

   God's blessed sun and air;

  And, blooming where my lot is cast,

   Grow happy and content,

  Making some barren spot more fair,

   For a humble⁷ life well spent.

 

“She wrote it herself! I can't believe it!” said Emily, as she put down the paper, looking rather startled, for she DID believe it, and felt as if she had suddenly looked into a fellow-creature's heart. “I thought her just an ordinary girl, and here she is a poet, writing verses that make me want to cry! I don't suppose they ARE very good, but they seem to come right out of her heart, and touch me with the

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