We can best estimate the value of common blessings by imagining
ourselves deprived of them.
What would it mean for you and me
If dawn should come no more;
Think of its gold along the sea,
Its rose above the shore!
That rose of awful mystery,
Our souls bow down before.
Think what it means to see the dawn!
The dawn, that comes each day!
What if the East should ne’er grow wan,
Should never more grow gray!
That line of rose no more be drawn
Above the ocean’s spray! (Text.)
--MADISON CAWEIN, _Ainslee’s Magazine_.
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