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University of Virginia Library

Poems

by T. Westwood

Westwood, T. (1814?-1888)

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THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN.

CREATION'S HYMN OF PRAISE.

STANZAS ADDRESSED TO A LADY WHO AFFECTED A DISLIKE FOR POETRY.

THE LONELY HEART.

THE VOICE OF WINTER,

THE PRAYER OF THE CAPTIVE.

LIFE AND ETERNITY.

THE SISTER'S FAREWELL.

THE MINSTREL'S LAMENT.

INTRODUCTION TO AN ALBUM.

THE SPANISH KNIGHT'S FAREWELL.

LINES SUGGESTED BY A PORTRAIT.

AWAY, MAIDEN, AWAY!

THE UNION OF PAINTING WITH POETRY.

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THE SUFFERINGS OF THE GOOD.

FAIRY GRATITUDE.

ETERNITY DEFINED

[The infinite sands upon the ocean shore—]

THE TWO THRONES.

HOPE AND TRUTH.

LIGHT THE REVELATION OF DEITY.

THE RARE MIRROR.

SING, LADY, SING!

EPIGRAM FROM THE FRENCH OF PIRON.

THE VICTOR'S DIRGE.

AN EXPOSTULATION TO SUMMER ON HER PREMATURE DEPARTURE.

THE CALL TO ARMS.

THEMES OF SADNESS.

LINES TO A FRIEND.

NATURE'S EVIDENCE.

THE EXILE'S SORROW.

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THOUGHTS ON FLOWERS.

[Flowers are the lov'd of all]

[Look at yon lily, how without a blush]

[The snowdrop is the herald of the flowers]

[Wild flowers, that in the wood's deep solitudes]

[Here is the violet, the fragrant type]

[Trust not to outward seeming; health doth oft]

[I saw a flower in a pathless wood]

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1.

(1) “ONE HOUR WITH THEE.”

2.

(2) “FORGET ME, OH FORGET ME.

3.

(3) “HOW SHALL I WOO THEE?”

4.

5.

(5) “FAR AWAY, FAR AWAY.”

6.

(6) THE TRYSTING HOUR.

7.

8.

(8) “THOU ART GOING.”

9.

10.

(10) “AWAY TO THE GREENWOOD.”

11.

(11) SONG OF THE ROSE.

12.

(12) NIGHT SONG OF THE SHIP.

THE RETURN OF THE SWISS CRUSADERS.

CUPID AND THE BEE.

THE EXILE'S FAREWELL.

EPITAPH FROM THE FRENCH OF PIRON.

LINES SUGGESTED BY A DRAWING OF TURNBERRY CASTLE.

PAST AND PRESENT.

A SONG OF SPRING.

“I MAY NOT LINGER HERE.”

THE EMIGRANT'S BRIDE.

SONG OF TRIUMPH.

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[Here is the violet, the fragrant type]

Here is the violet, the fragrant type
Of modesty, and here, the white vale-lily,
Purity's emblem,—this forget-me-not
Is truth's own token flower, and yonder daisy,
The lowly symbol of simplicity;—
Blossoms of richer scent, and brighter hues,
Are blooming round me, but I heed them not;
Of these shall be my coronal, for twined
Around thy brow, dear Helen, they will be
The outward signs of those sweet qualities,
That in thy guileless bosom, live enshrined.