 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary with introduction and notes |  |
TO MARY.
Well! thou art happy, and I say
That I should thus be happy too;
For still I hate to go away
As badly as I used to do.
That I should thus be happy too;
For still I hate to go away
As badly as I used to do.
Thy husband 's blest,—and 't will impart
Some pangs to view his happier lot;
But let them pass,—O, how my heart
Would hate him, if he clothed thee not!
Some pangs to view his happier lot;
But let them pass,—O, how my heart
Would hate him, if he clothed thee not!
470
When late I saw thy favorite child,
I thought, like Dutchmen, “I 'd go dead,”
But when I saw its breakfast piled,
I thought how much 't would take for bread.
I thought, like Dutchmen, “I 'd go dead,”
But when I saw its breakfast piled,
I thought how much 't would take for bread.
I saw it and repressed my groans
Its father in its face to see,
Because I knew my scanty funds
Were scarce enough for you and me.
Its father in its face to see,
Because I knew my scanty funds
Were scarce enough for you and me.
Mary, adieu! I must away;
While thou art blest, to grieve were sin,
But near thee I can never stay,
Because I 'd get in love again.
While thou art blest, to grieve were sin,
But near thee I can never stay,
Because I 'd get in love again.
I deemed that time, I deemed that pride,
My boyish feeling had subdued,
Nor knew, till seated by thy side,
I 'd try to get you, if I could.
My boyish feeling had subdued,
Nor knew, till seated by thy side,
I 'd try to get you, if I could.
Yet was I calm: I recollect,
My hand had once sought yours again,
But now your husband might object,
And so I kept it on my cane.
My hand had once sought yours again,
But now your husband might object,
And so I kept it on my cane.
I saw thee gaze upon my face,
Yet meet with neither woe nor scoff;
One only feeling couldst thou trace,
A disposition to be off.
Yet meet with neither woe nor scoff;
One only feeling couldst thou trace,
A disposition to be off.
Away! away, my early dream,
Remembrance never must awake;
O, where is Mississippi's stream?
My foolish heart, be still, or break!
Remembrance never must awake;
O, where is Mississippi's stream?
My foolish heart, be still, or break!
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary with introduction and notes | |