 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
THE ORPHAN GIRL.
My heart shall rest where greenly flow
The willows o'er the meadow—
The fever of this burning brow
Be cooled beneath their shadow.
When summer birds go singing by,
And sweet rain wakes the blossom,
My weary hands shall folded lie
Upon a peaceful bosom.
The willows o'er the meadow—
The fever of this burning brow
Be cooled beneath their shadow.
When summer birds go singing by,
And sweet rain wakes the blossom,
My weary hands shall folded lie
Upon a peaceful bosom.
When, Nature, shall the night begin
That morning ne'er displaces,
And I be calmly folded in
Thy long and still embraces?
Dearer than to the Arab maid,
When sands are hotly glowing,
The deep well and tented shade,
Were peace of thy bestowing.
That morning ne'er displaces,
And I be calmly folded in
Thy long and still embraces?
Dearer than to the Arab maid,
When sands are hotly glowing,
The deep well and tented shade,
Were peace of thy bestowing.
23
My soul was once a house of light,
Whose joy might not be spoken;
But Fancy wore a wing too bright,
And now my heart is broken!
But where the violets darkly bloom,
And greenly flows the willow—
Down on the pavement of the tomb,
There waits a quiet pillow.
Whose joy might not be spoken;
But Fancy wore a wing too bright,
And now my heart is broken!
But where the violets darkly bloom,
And greenly flows the willow—
Down on the pavement of the tomb,
There waits a quiet pillow.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |