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The lost pleiad ; and other poems

Chivers, T. H. (1809-1858)

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THE LOST PLEIAD:
 
TO MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN.
 
THE ORPHAN'S PRAYER.
 
THE WIFE'S LAMENT FOR HER HUSBAND LOST AT SEA.
 
TO ONE IN HEAVEN.
 
THE GEORGIAN CAPTIVE.
 
APOSTROPHE TO TIME.
 
CAROL.
 
TO ALLEGRA FLORENCE IN HEAVEN.
 
THE SOUL'S DESTINY.
 
SHELLEY.
 
TO MY FIRST-BORN IN HEAVEN.
 
ON THE DEATH OF MY FIRST-BORN.
 
LAMENT ON THE DEATH OF MY MOTHER.
 
WASHINGTON.
 
THE HEAVENLY VISION.
 
TO SHAKSPEARE DYING.
 
MY SOUL'S JEWEL.
 
THE SALUTATION.
 
SONNET.—TO ISA SLEEPING.
 
SONNET.—THE HUSBAND'S REQUEST.
 
SONNET.—ON THE DEATH OF MY MOTHER.
 
LAMENT ON THE DEATH OF MY MOTHER.
 
THE POET'S LOVE OF FAME.
 
SONG TO ISA.
 
SPRING.
 
SONNET.—MY MOTHER'S LOVE.
 
SONNET.—DEATH.
 
THE PARTING APPEAL.
 
THE PIQUE.
 
AWAKE FROM THY SLUMBERS.
 
THE VOICE OF MY DELIGHT.
 
THE DYING POET.
 
SONG TO ISA IN HEAVEN.
 
SONNET.—MEMORY.
 
SONNET.—THE DYING HUSBAND TO HIS WIFE.
 
TO ALLEGRA FLORENCE.
 
THE VOICELESS EARTH.
 
SONNET.—ON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF MY MOTHER.
 
SONNET.—THE GRAVE.
 
THE CONFESSIONAL.
 
OH, BREAK THE HARP!
 
THE EVENING LAND.
 
ON HEARING VON WEBER'S LAST WALTZ.
 
THE MOTHER'S LAMENT ON THE DEATH OF HER CHILD.
 
GOD DWELLS IN LIGHT.
 
ON HEARING A LADY SING.
 
TO MARION IN HEAVEN.
 
TO A LADY SINGING.
 
TO ISA.
 
THE SERENADER'S SONG.
 
ANACREONTIQUE.
 
TO ISA.
 
TO ISA.
 
TO JESSE.
 
SONG TO A FALSE ONE.
 
THE POETRY OF LOVE, JOY, AND GRIEF.
 
TO A BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL.
 
FIRST LOVE.
 
SONG TO SPRING.
 
THE DEATH OF JEFFERSON.
 
THE INVOCATION.
 
A LONGING TO KNOW.
 
THE CHERISHED FLOWER.
 
TO ONE FAR AWAY.
 
THE SPIRIT'S YEARNINGS.

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28

TO ISA.

Through all this toilsome pilgrimage below,
My spirit ever yearned to be with thine,
Since, in our preëxistent state, we know,
It was appointed to be twined with mine.
I saw some glimpses of thy former state
In the calm languor of those downcast eyes,
For which my soul leaped forth in joy elate,
And claimed, on earth, its sister of the skies!
The presence of thy beauty gives me peace,
And whispers comfort to my longing soul;
It is an amulet against disease,
And that Bethesda which has made me whole.
To see thee, makes me long for something more—
Beyond the joy of that which thou hast given—
For that sweet fruit which grew on our own shore—
Where all is happiness—where all is Heaven.
New York, June 8th, 1837.
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