 | Nacoochee ; or, the beautiful star, with other Poems |  |
48
THE DYING DOVE.
Oh! that I knew where I might find him! that I might come even to his seat.—
Job, 23: 3.
Job, 23: 3.
Oh! mourn not, my turtle—Oh! mourn not, my dove!
Thy deep mellow wailings shall woo back thy love.
Thy blue breast, like heaven, may pour out the lay,
And mourn for thy minion, now far, far away!
The soft winds may bear off thy consummate sighs,
Away from mine own, into other blue skies!
But mourn not, my turtle—Oh! mourn not, my dove!
Thy deep mellow wailings shall woo back thy love.
Thy deep mellow wailings shall woo back thy love.
Thy blue breast, like heaven, may pour out the lay,
And mourn for thy minion, now far, far away!
The soft winds may bear off thy consummate sighs,
Away from mine own, into other blue skies!
But mourn not, my turtle—Oh! mourn not, my dove!
Thy deep mellow wailings shall woo back thy love.
Thy pinions may bear thee away from my shore,
To mourn where my spirit shall see thee no more!
But where are thy fledglings—thy dear little things?
And are they, like mine, borne away from thy wings?
Ah! many fond hearts have treated like thine!
But none have wounded much deeper than mine!
But mourn not, my turtle—Oh! mourn not, my dove!
Thy deep mellow wailings shall woo back thy love.
To mourn where my spirit shall see thee no more!
But where are thy fledglings—thy dear little things?
And are they, like mine, borne away from thy wings?
Ah! many fond hearts have treated like thine!
But none have wounded much deeper than mine!
But mourn not, my turtle—Oh! mourn not, my dove!
Thy deep mellow wailings shall woo back thy love.
I heard thee last evening—this morning—at noon—
And hoped that thy minion might comfort thee soon!
I knew that thy heart was like other loves, torn
Away from those dear ones that never return!
I saw that thy first love none other could be,
And knew that thy strength had departed from thee!
But mourn not, my turtle—Oh! mourn not, my dove!
Thy deep mellow wailings shall woo back thy love.
And hoped that thy minion might comfort thee soon!
I knew that thy heart was like other loves, torn
Away from those dear ones that never return!
I saw that thy first love none other could be,
And knew that thy strength had departed from thee!
But mourn not, my turtle—Oh! mourn not, my dove!
Thy deep mellow wailings shall woo back thy love.
49
I saw her descend from the tall dewy limb—
The last tie was broken that bound her to him!
I lent down beside where she bade him adieu,
And gave her three lily-bells charged with the dew!
She drank like an infant three days after birth,
And turned o'er and died on the cold, clammy earth!
I mourned for my turtle—my poor dying dove!
No deep mellow wailings could woo back her love!
The last tie was broken that bound her to him!
I lent down beside where she bade him adieu,
And gave her three lily-bells charged with the dew!
She drank like an infant three days after birth,
And turned o'er and died on the cold, clammy earth!
I mourned for my turtle—my poor dying dove!
No deep mellow wailings could woo back her love!
| Nacoochee ; or, the beautiful star, with other Poems | |