WANDERING at morn,
Emerging from the night, from gloomy thoughtsthee in my thoughts,
Yearning for thee, harmonious Union! thee, Singing Bird divine!
Thee, seated coild in evil times, my Country, with craft and black dismaywith
meanness, treason thrust upon thee;
Wanderingthis common marvel I beheldthe parent thrush I watchd,
(The singing thrush, whose tones of joy and faith ecstatic,
Fail not to certify and cheer my soul.)
There ponderd, felt I,
If worms, snakes, loathsome grubs, may to sweet spiritual songs be turnd,
If vermin so transposed, so used, so blessd may be,
Then may I trust in you, your fortunes, days, my country;
Who knows that these may be the lessons fit for you?
From these your future Song may rise, with joyous trills,
Destind to fill the world.