SONNET.—THE OLIVE.
Reading edition
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BY WM. ALEXANDER.
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What sacred reminiscences dost thou
Awake within the breast, O olive-tree!
First did the silver-pinioned dove from thee
Pluck the sweet “Peace-branch”—it an olive-bough.
Fair evergreen! thoughts pure, devout, sublime,
Thou callest up, reminding us of Him,
The Man of Sorrows—Lord of Cherubim—
Who, erewhile, did, in distant Orient clime,
’Neath thy dark, solemn shade, once weep and pray
In woful agony; though now, above,
Seated on sapphire throne—the God of Love—
While round his head the covenant sign alway
Unfolds its rich and ever-living green,
Memento of Gethsemane’s affecting scene.
THE WAY TO CHURCH. Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine by T. McGoffin