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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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TO JESSE.

The Rose is called the Queen of all the Flowers,
More radiant, but of odor less divine;
The rich Magnolia, though it scent the bowers
Afar, is far less sweet than Jessamine!
The Peach-tree blossom is of “tender smell”—
So is the saintly Apple-bloom divine;
But never Tuberose, from Indian dell,
Could be compared with thee, my Jessamine!
There is not, in the Paradise above,
An Amaranth, or bud of Eglantine;
Nor in the Eden-bowers of Perfect Love,
A flower like thee, my gentle Jessamine!
The Lily is not half so sweet as thou,
Nor is the Tonquill's breath so sweet as thine;
Nor is the Daffodill, which greets me now
With its delicious speech, sweet Jessamine!
For, as in heaven there is one star whose light
Is brighter far than all the rest that shine;
So, here on earth, there is one flower more bright
Than all the rest—it is my Jessamine!
Middletown, Conn., Oct. 24th, 1841.
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