An Hour With Thee

An hour with thee! When earliest day

Dapples with gold the eastern gray,

Oh, what can frame my mind to bear

The toil and turmoil, cark and care,

New griefs, which coming hours unfold,

And sad remembrance of the old?

One hour with thee.

One hour with thee! When burning June

Waves his red flag at pitch of noon;

What shall repay the faithful swain,

His labor on the sultry plain;

And, more than cave or sheltering bough,

Cool feverish blood and throbbing brow?

One hour with thee.

One hour with thee! When sun is set,

Oh, what can teach me to forget

The thankless labors of the day;

The hopes, the wishes, flung away;

The increasing wants, and lessening gains,

The master's pride, who scorns my pains?

One hour with thee.

From the novel Woodstock.