 | Poems by Miss H. F. Gould |  |
72
THE BREAST-PIN.
Come, thou dear, thou hallowed treasure,
Make thy home upon my breast,
Till my days have filled their measure,
Till I, too, am gone to rest!
Make thy home upon my breast,
Till my days have filled their measure,
Till I, too, am gone to rest!
Not because I love your glitter,
Dazzling gold and sparkling stone,
For your charms have dashed with bitter
Life's whole fount for many a one.
Dazzling gold and sparkling stone,
For your charms have dashed with bitter
Life's whole fount for many a one.
Not for these, bright gift, I'm taking
Thee to be my bosom friend!
'T is for thoughts that thou art waking,
Memory, but a death to end!
Thee to be my bosom friend!
'T is for thoughts that thou art waking,
Memory, but a death to end!
That sweet face, so pale and altered,
Painted here, can fancy see,
Every fainting word that faltered
On her lip, I read in thee.
Painted here, can fancy see,
Every fainting word that faltered
On her lip, I read in thee.
May thy sacred name be spoken
Never to the mortal ear!
For, a dying sister's token,
I baptize thee with a tear!
Never to the mortal ear!
For, a dying sister's token,
I baptize thee with a tear!
| Poems by Miss H. F. Gould | |