 | Poems of home and country |  |
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III. TENDER PARTINGS.
ELIZABETH, THE INFANT ANGEL.
Ascended, dearly loved, in life's young bud;
Too fair, too sweet, 'mid earth's rude blasts to stay,
Safe in the bosom of thy Father, God,
Bright, beauteous infant, from thy cumbering clay
So soon escaped, its happy heavenward way
Thy soul hath taken. Like the light of morn,
Thou didst shed on us one fair passing ray,
Then to thy glorious Source, thou, babe, wast borne.
Too fair, too sweet, 'mid earth's rude blasts to stay,
Safe in the bosom of thy Father, God,
Bright, beauteous infant, from thy cumbering clay
So soon escaped, its happy heavenward way
Thy soul hath taken. Like the light of morn,
Thou didst shed on us one fair passing ray,
Then to thy glorious Source, thou, babe, wast borne.
Dear infant angel, safe in joy and God!
Babe of fair promise, child of fondest prayer!
Hail, rescued spirit! painful is the rod;
But never will we mourn that thou art there.
Bright gem, we would not tear thee from thy crown,
Nor bid thy harp, sweet seraph, silent lie;
Stay in thy mansion, infant, still our own,
Never to grieve again, or fear, or die.
Babe of fair promise, child of fondest prayer!
Hail, rescued spirit! painful is the rod;
But never will we mourn that thou art there.
Bright gem, we would not tear thee from thy crown,
Nor bid thy harp, sweet seraph, silent lie;
Stay in thy mansion, infant, still our own,
Never to grieve again, or fear, or die.
Short was thy pilgrim path, a sunny hour;
Life was to thee too sweet a boon to last.
What joy it gave thee, gentle morning flower!
How soon the glorious pageant o'er thee passed!
Passed! Yes, from earth,—but fairer life is thine;
The vale of death thy little foot hath trod;
And now in life immortal thou dost shine,
Dear infant, in the paradise of God.
Life was to thee too sweet a boon to last.
What joy it gave thee, gentle morning flower!
How soon the glorious pageant o'er thee passed!
Passed! Yes, from earth,—but fairer life is thine;
The vale of death thy little foot hath trod;
And now in life immortal thou dost shine,
Dear infant, in the paradise of God.
March 24, 1842.
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THE JEWEL AND ITS SETTING.
I had a jewel passing rich,
Set in its lovely frame;
How on the prize my heart was fixed
From the bright day it came!
Set in its lovely frame;
How on the prize my heart was fixed
From the bright day it came!
The setting was of choicest skill,
As fair as fair could be;
And art divine had done its best
To make it sweet to me.
The purple haze of distant hills,
The evening's golden light,
The bending rainbow's painted arch,
Were, to my eye, less bright.
As fair as fair could be;
And art divine had done its best
To make it sweet to me.
The purple haze of distant hills,
The evening's golden light,
The bending rainbow's painted arch,
Were, to my eye, less bright.
The gleaming of the silver sheen
Across the summer sea;
The grace that winds the clinging vine
Around the greenwood tree;
The weeping elm, the stately pine;
The breath of fragrant flowers;
The broad, blue sky, the landscape green,
The leafy, sheltering bowers;
The dark line of the circling hills
Around the horizon's verge;
The blue rim of the far-off sea,
Where billows toss and surge,—
All have their glory; all, their worth;
On each the dazzled eye
Loves to look lingeringly, and gaze
Raptured and dreamily;
From each the mantle of such grace
Seems round its charms to fall,—
The setting of my beauteous gem
To me surpassed them all.
Across the summer sea;
The grace that winds the clinging vine
Around the greenwood tree;
The weeping elm, the stately pine;
The breath of fragrant flowers;
The broad, blue sky, the landscape green,
The leafy, sheltering bowers;
The dark line of the circling hills
Around the horizon's verge;
The blue rim of the far-off sea,
Where billows toss and surge,—
All have their glory; all, their worth;
On each the dazzled eye
Loves to look lingeringly, and gaze
Raptured and dreamily;
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Seems round its charms to fall,—
The setting of my beauteous gem
To me surpassed them all.
So fair the setting; fairer yet
The priceless, sparkling gem,
Fit honor for a princely hand,
Or regal diadem.
The jewel made the setting bright,
Within whose clasp it shone;
'T was for its sake the frame was carved;
The chief charm was its own.
The priceless, sparkling gem,
Fit honor for a princely hand,
Or regal diadem.
The jewel made the setting bright,
Within whose clasp it shone;
'T was for its sake the frame was carved;
The chief charm was its own.
And happy seasons onward passed,
And mornings went and came;
And still the precious jewel there
Flashed in its precious frame.
At last, some sad, sad chance befell,
Which dashed it to the ground:
The precious setting, ruined, fell;
The gem was safe and sound.
And mornings went and came;
And still the precious jewel there
Flashed in its precious frame.
At last, some sad, sad chance befell,
Which dashed it to the ground:
The precious setting, ruined, fell;
The gem was safe and sound.
My babe was like the jewel rare;
The frame, his cherished form;
I pressed it to my throbbing heart,
Dreading some wasting storm.
The storm has spoiled the setting fair,
But for a season given;
The gem I prized, unharmed, still shines
Forever safe in heaven.
The frame, his cherished form;
I pressed it to my throbbing heart,
Dreading some wasting storm.
The storm has spoiled the setting fair,
But for a season given;
The gem I prized, unharmed, still shines
Forever safe in heaven.
Chicago, 1885.
36
IN MEMORY OF MARY WHITE SMITH.
RANGOON, BURMAH, FEBRUARY 5, 1888.
I see the blessed angels there;
They beckon me away
From night and pain, from sin and death,
To gladness, light, and day.
They beckon me away
From night and pain, from sin and death,
To gladness, light, and day.
I see them on the shining stairs;
What pure white robes they wear
'T will be a heaven of untold bliss
To dwell forever there.
What pure white robes they wear
'T will be a heaven of untold bliss
To dwell forever there.
I see, I see their shining wings!
I hear, I hear them raise,
In sweetest tone, in words unknown,
Their songs of joy and praise!
I hear, I hear them raise,
In sweetest tone, in words unknown,
Their songs of joy and praise!
Come, little pilgrim, come away,
To you such grace is given;
Come, for of children such as thou
The kingdom is of heaven!
To you such grace is given;
Come, for of children such as thou
The kingdom is of heaven!
She listened; up the shining stairs
With happy feet she trod,
And found, so young, that blessed home,
The paradise of God.
With happy feet she trod,
And found, so young, that blessed home,
The paradise of God.
February 6, 1878.
37
TWO GARDENS,
THE HEAVENLY AND THE EARTHLY.
Two gardens, flourishing and bright,
Kept by one gardener's care,
Smiled in the sweet and sunny light,
And breathed with perfumed air.
Kept by one gardener's care,
Smiled in the sweet and sunny light,
And breathed with perfumed air.
One stood, all bathed in heavenly joy,
As if in early spring
An angel, clad in rainbow dyes,
Shook beauty from his wing.
As if in early spring
An angel, clad in rainbow dyes,
Shook beauty from his wing.
No frost the unfolding petals knew,
No blight on bud or bloom;
No lowering cloud, no chilling dew,
No emblem of the tomb.
No blight on bud or bloom;
No lowering cloud, no chilling dew,
No emblem of the tomb.
And one, o'er every fragrant bed
A chastened sadness lay,
As when the evening shadows close
Around a summer's day.
A chastened sadness lay,
As when the evening shadows close
Around a summer's day.
Lily and rose and violet smiled,
Fair as a glorious gem;
But rose and lily, doomed to fade,
Sat on a fragile stem.
Fair as a glorious gem;
But rose and lily, doomed to fade,
Sat on a fragile stem.
In one, a plant of beauty blessed
A sweet sequestered bower,
Breathed fragrance where its bloom was nursed,
And grew, a matchless flower.
A sweet sequestered bower,
Breathed fragrance where its bloom was nursed,
And grew, a matchless flower.
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The gardener saw its peerless charms,
And chose a flower so rare
To grace his other garden-bed
And so removed it there.
And chose a flower so rare
To grace his other garden-bed
And so removed it there.
And now where angels walk in white,
A land of cloudless skies,
The gathered lily fitly blooms,—
A flower of Paradise.
A land of cloudless skies,
The gathered lily fitly blooms,—
A flower of Paradise.
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