S W O Th A h B h （1 / 1）

n written on the author&039;s birthday,

on hearg a thrh sg his orng walk

sg on, sweet thrh, upon the leafless bough,

sg on, sweet bird, i listen to thy stra,

see ad ter, &039;id his surly reign,

at thy blythe carol, clears his furrowed brow

lone poverty&039;s doion drear,

sits ek ntent with light, unanxio heart;

weles the rapid onts, bids the part,

nor asks if they brg ought to hope or fear

i thank thee, author of this openg day!

thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies!

riches denied, thy boon was purer joys—

what wealth uld never give nor take away!

yet e, thou child of poverty and care,

the ite high heav&039;n bestow&039;d, that ite with thee i&039;ll share