Sweet is the dew-drop on the thorn

Sweet is the dew-drop on the thorn,
That, like a prism, reflccts the morn;
Sweet is the cheering solar ray,
That compasses the ample day:
Sweet is the balmy evening's close,
That shuts the foliage of the rose:
These to creation joys impart
Like those which warm the grateful heart.

The little songsters on the spray
Spontaneous chant their grateful lay,
Or, to the pebbly rivulet driven,
They sip, and lift their heads to heaven;
Or for the worm or insect fly,
To feed their craving progeny:
Feelings a lesson that impart
To stimulate the grateful heart.

Mark vegetation, wond'rous sight!
See how the germe breaks into light!
The fruitful shower the tree receives,
And fresher green adorns its leaves:
Man cultivates the grateful soil,
And flowers and fruit reward his toil;
Plants, birds, all nature thus impart
Joys such as warm the grateful heart.