Poet
John Chick Murray
English
- But how unlike the light of human eye
- Far in the field or by the way appears
- Fled are the lovely birds of summer pride
- Now from these vital scenes we turn without
- Oh! were the fire upon this fleshly hearth
- Such is the land I proudly call my own
- Thanksgiving Day once more has come and gone
- Though sparkling frost may gem Night’s coronet
- Tis Sabbath now, and Morn, with glowing soul