Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly, Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by ; MORAL. And now, dear little children, who may this story read, HOWITT. LINES TO AN ATHEIST. "No God!"-I will not speak in scorn and wrath, Nor please thy pride by terror and by flight; Too dark already is thy hopeless path, Her firm foundations and destroyed her light; 'Tis thou art deaf, but nature is not dumb, Hear but her voice, and it will guide thee right. Look on our earth! its beauties first survey, They cannot throng thy path without surprise; Since order or design no doubt supplies: Where day and night, and spring and autumn rise? Thy senses find an answering object here-- how can your eternal laws, ་ 'Tis thine to see yon stars, unnumbered suns, Her conqueror, meets no God mid nature's strife, The cause of all, of seraph, worm, and sun, THE HARMONY OF NATURE. THE twilight of a cloudless eve And day's departing glorious gleam O'er sunny mount and rill. The kindling radiance of the west And deep amid the distant glen, And hark! how sweet its silver chime, The hallowed sound floats up the dell, The fragrance of the southern gale And joyful sounds the woods fling forth |