 | [Poems by Osgood in] Sibylline verses ; or, the mirror of fate |  |
128
[Turn to thy books, my gentle girl]
Turn to thy books, my gentle girl—
They will not dim thine eyes;
That hair will all as richly curl,
That blush as sweetly rise.
They will not dim thine eyes;
That hair will all as richly curl,
That blush as sweetly rise.
Turn to thy friends—a smile as fond
On friendship's lip may be,
And breathing from a heart as warm
As love can offer thee.
On friendship's lip may be,
And breathing from a heart as warm
As love can offer thee.
Turn to thy home! affection wreathes
Her dearest garland there;
And, more than all, a mother breathes
For thee—for thee, her prayer.
Her dearest garland there;
And, more than all, a mother breathes
For thee—for thee, her prayer.
Too soon—oh! all too soon will come
In later years the spell,
Touching with changing hues thy path,
Where once but sunlight fell.
In later years the spell,
Touching with changing hues thy path,
Where once but sunlight fell.
142
[As smiles with glory, soft but warm]
As smiles with glory, soft but warm,The morning 'mid the wreathing mist,
So through thy fair and graceful form
Thy spirit plays—as flowers resist,
Yet meekly bow before the blast
Their leaves, that but from lightness quiver,
And when the unwelcome wind has pass'd,
Look up again as bright as ever—
So meets thy brow the storm of fate,
Yet meekly seems to yield the while,
And so, wert thou left desolate,
Thou 'dst look to heaven with tender smile.
| [Poems by Osgood in] Sibylline verses ; or, the mirror of fate | |