Thomas Cole's poetry the collected poems of America's foremost painter of the Hudson River School reflecting his feelings for nature and the romantic spirit of the Nineteenth Century |
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 | Thomas Cole's poetry |  |
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33.
On hearing of the death of Mr. Reed—
It came to me—the word that he was dead—
My Benefactor! To myself I said
It is a dream—I strove to wake, Alas!
The dream if such it is will never pass—
My Benefactor! To myself I said
It is a dream—I strove to wake, Alas!
The dream if such it is will never pass—
The earth is darker though 'tis summer now,
And heaven does wear a shadow on its brow,
And the deep green of the far waving hills
The once gay flowers, the ever singing rills
Have ta'en a tone of sadness and no more
Unlock the springs of joy; but daily pour
An influence regretful on my soul,
And bid forth tears that I would fain controul.
O cease my tears ye are too soft for grief
Grief such as mine—I would not your relief.
And heaven does wear a shadow on its brow,
And the deep green of the far waving hills
The once gay flowers, the ever singing rills
Have ta'en a tone of sadness and no more
Unlock the springs of joy; but daily pour
An influence regretful on my soul,
And bid forth tears that I would fain controul.
O cease my tears ye are too soft for grief
Grief such as mine—I would not your relief.
Catskill
June, 1836
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