Wanderer

Sweet is thy rest. How, bathed in heavenly healthiness, Restful he breathes! Thou, born above the relics Of a most sacred past, Upon thee may its spirit rest. He whom it environeth Will in the consciousness of power divine Each day enjoy. Seedling so rich expand, The shining spring’s Resplendent ornament, In presence of thy fellows shine, And when the flower-sheathe fades and falls May from thy bosom rise The abounding fruit, And ripening, front the sun.