Poem by Laura Sophia Temple

Song I (When the fair Morning)

When the fair Morning,
Nature adorning,
        Chases the shadows of Night from the sky ;
Oh what a pleasure
Fondly to treasure
        All the rich graces that burst from her eye.

Thus should the roses,
Fortune discloses,
        Wisely be gather'd ere Youth fades away ;
Timely remember
Gloomy December,
        Treads on the frolicsome footsteps of May.

1. On Hearing the Sound of Music at a Distance
2. An Address to Apathy
3. What Is Pleasure?--'tis a Bubble
4. The Outcast
5. The Wanderer's Return

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