Invitation to sisters to a walk in the Garden, after a shower

Come, sisters come! the shower’s past,
The garden walks are drying fast,
The Sun’s bright beams are seen again,
And nought within, can now detain.
The rain drops tremble on the leaves,
Or drip expiring, from the eaves;
But soon the cool and balmy air,
Shall dry the gems that sparkle there,
With whisp’ring breath shake ev’ry spray,
And scatter every cloud away.

Thus sisters! shall the breeze of hope,
Through sorrow’s clouds a vista ope;
Thus, shall affliction’s surly blast,
By faith’s bright calm be still’d at last;
Thus, pain and care,—the tear and sigh,
Be chased from every dewy eye;
And life’s mix’d scene itself, but cease,
To show us realms of light and peace.