Unto the golden portals of the Day.

Yea! Night and Death shall pass away, and we,
By resurrection sweet, arise new-born
Like thee in glory, bright one, Sons of Morn,
Without a shade on our felicity,
Eyeing the fleeting vapours of the Past,
As thou dost now Night's mists dissolving fast.





THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS.


How light and pleasant is the way
Across this quiet valley, whose soft mead
Springs lightly as the air that angels tread,
Beneath our footsteps weariless all day!
This crystal river flowing by our side,
One stream of sunshine, still has seem'd a guide
From Heaven in pure angelical array.

These purple mountains now are nigh,
That all the valley through have fill'd our eyes
With day-dreams of the distant Paradise,
Their sun-surrounded summits can descry--
We mount them now upon Hope's bounding wing,
That makes each short swift footstep long to spring