 | Verses of a life time |  |
201
MISCELLANEOUS.
203
THE AMERICAN BOY.
[_]
[An English traveller has remarked, that when Americans speak of the relative character of England and their own country, “right or wrong, they will have the last word.” This is illustrated in the following thoughts, excited by Mrs. Hemans' beautiful and elevating verses to “The English Boy.”]
Look up, my young American!
Stand firmly on the earth,
Where noble deeds, and mental power,
Give titles more than birth.
Stand firmly on the earth,
Where noble deeds, and mental power,
Give titles more than birth.
A hallowed land thou claim'st, my boy,
By early struggles bought,
Heaped up with early memories—
And wide; ay, wide as thought!
By early struggles bought,
Heaped up with early memories—
And wide; ay, wide as thought!
204
On the high Alleghany's range,
Awake thy joyous song;
Then o'er our green savannahs stray,
And gentle notes prolong.
Awake thy joyous song;
Then o'er our green savannahs stray,
And gentle notes prolong.
Awake it mid the rushing peal
Of dark Niagara's voice,
Or by thine ocean-rivers stand,
And in their joy rejoice.
Of dark Niagara's voice,
Or by thine ocean-rivers stand,
And in their joy rejoice.
What though we boast no ancient towers,
Where “ivied” streamers twine!
The laurel lives upon our soil,
The laurel, boy, is thine.
Where “ivied” streamers twine!
The laurel lives upon our soil,
The laurel, boy, is thine.
What though no “minster lifts the cross,”
Tinged by the sunset fire?
Freely religion's voices float
Round every village spire.
Tinged by the sunset fire?
Freely religion's voices float
Round every village spire.
205
And who shall gaze on yon “blue sea,”
If thou must turn away?
When free Columbia's stripes and stars
Are floating in the day?
If thou must turn away?
When free Columbia's stripes and stars
Are floating in the day?
Who thunders louder, when the strife
Of gathering war is stirred?
Who ranges further, when the call
Of commerce' voice is heard?
Of gathering war is stirred?
Who ranges further, when the call
Of commerce' voice is heard?
And though on “Cressy's distant field”
Thy gaze may not be cast,
While, through long centuries of blood,
Rise spectres of the past;
Thy gaze may not be cast,
While, through long centuries of blood,
Rise spectres of the past;
The future wakes thy dreamings high,
And thou a note mayst claim,
Aspiring, which in after times
Shall swell the trump of fame.
And thou a note mayst claim,
Aspiring, which in after times
Shall swell the trump of fame.
Yet scenes are here for tender thought—
Here sleep the good and brave!
Here kneel, my boy, and raise thy vow
Above the patriot's grave.
Here sleep the good and brave!
Here kneel, my boy, and raise thy vow
Above the patriot's grave.
206
On Moultrie's isle, on Bunker's height,
On Monmouth's heated line,
On Eutaw's field, on Yorktown's bank,
Erect thy loyal shrine;
On Monmouth's heated line,
On Eutaw's field, on Yorktown's bank,
Erect thy loyal shrine;
And when thou 'rt told of “knighthood's shields,”
And English battles won,
Look up, my boy, and breathe one word,—
The name of Washington.
And English battles won,
Look up, my boy, and breathe one word,—
The name of Washington.
The laurel grows in its beautiful varieties throughout the United States; the kalmia at the north; at the south; the splendid magnolia grandiflora.
207
TO A FRIEND.
The moon that proudly treads the sky,Were doubly bright if thou wert nigh;
The breeze that murmurs on mine ear,
Were softer still, if thou wert here;
The sky would beam a lovelier blue,
If thou couldst whisper, I am true;
And thoughts of heaven bear firmer sway,
If thou shouldst point, and lead the way.
208
THOUGHTS ON A BALL ROOM.
Think not I view'd with vacant soul
That glittering scene of life and mirth;
Reflection o'er my being stole,
And gave me thoughts not born for earth.
That glittering scene of life and mirth;
Reflection o'er my being stole,
And gave me thoughts not born for earth.
The strongest beam of sunny days
Shows not the ocean's treasur'd store,
Nor could you, mid that dazzling blaze,
Perceive my heart's religious lore.
Shows not the ocean's treasur'd store,
Nor could you, mid that dazzling blaze,
Perceive my heart's religious lore.
That eve, amid those airy forms,
I thought of Him who tints the rose,
Reveals the rainbow after storms,
And in the western sunset glows;
I thought of Him who tints the rose,
Reveals the rainbow after storms,
And in the western sunset glows;
Of Him who gave the elastic tread,
The eye of fire, the manly glow,
The cheek where roses make their bed,
The pencill'd lid, the brow of snow.
The eye of fire, the manly glow,
The cheek where roses make their bed,
The pencill'd lid, the brow of snow.
209
And I felt grateful for the grace
Which youth and beauty throw around—
The buoyant air, the mind-lit face,
The charm of sight, the joy of sound.
Which youth and beauty throw around—
The buoyant air, the mind-lit face,
The charm of sight, the joy of sound.
Nor fear'd I, that those sunny hours
Would scorch the buds of pious bloom,
More than I fear that woodland flowers
In gay parterres will lose perfume.
Would scorch the buds of pious bloom,
More than I fear that woodland flowers
In gay parterres will lose perfume.
Nor did I chill with aspect grave,
Those eyes, which soon may droop with tears,
Those hearts, where yet in grief must wave
The cypress shade of coming years.
Those eyes, which soon may droop with tears,
Those hearts, where yet in grief must wave
The cypress shade of coming years.
One gentle caution kindly given
I could have breath'd to every ear—
Enjoy; but O, forget not Heaven—
Enjoy; but seek a nobler sphere.
I could have breath'd to every ear—
Enjoy; but O, forget not Heaven—
Enjoy; but seek a nobler sphere.
210
THE MAIDEN'S CHOICE.
Genteel in personage,
Conduct and equipage,
Noble in heritage,
Generous and free;
Brave and romantic,
Learned not pedantic,
Frolic not frantic;
Thus must he be.
Conduct and equipage,
Noble in heritage,
Generous and free;
Brave and romantic,
Learned not pedantic,
Frolic not frantic;
Thus must he be.
Honor maintaining,
Meanness disdaining,
Still entertaining,
Engaging and new;
Neat, but not finical,
Sage, but not cynical,
Never tyrannical,
But ever true.
Meanness disdaining,
Still entertaining,
Engaging and new;
Neat, but not finical,
Sage, but not cynical,
Never tyrannical,
But ever true.
ANONYMOUS.
211
THE GENTLEMAN'S CHOICE.
Of parentage suitable,
Pious and dutiful,
Graceful and beautiful,
Loving but me;
Her frolic not madness,
Her zeal without sadness,
Her smile beaming gladness,
This must she be.
Pious and dutiful,
Graceful and beautiful,
Loving but me;
Her frolic not madness,
Her zeal without sadness,
Her smile beaming gladness,
This must she be.
Hands soft and delicate,
Voice like sweet music set,
Eyes that when mine are met
Kindling rejoice,
Patient mid chiding,
Fond and confiding,
At home still abiding,
This is my choice.
Voice like sweet music set,
Eyes that when mine are met
Kindling rejoice,
Patient mid chiding,
Fond and confiding,
At home still abiding,
This is my choice.
C. G.
212
THE COUNTERFEIT.
Off with that stain! Rather would I behold
The ghastly whiteness of death's bleaching hand
Than see thee thus, a painted show, a cheat,
To lure the eye, to lure all eyes—for she
Who stains the velvet softness of her cheek
Does it for all—for vanity, not love.
The ghastly whiteness of death's bleaching hand
Than see thee thus, a painted show, a cheat,
To lure the eye, to lure all eyes—for she
Who stains the velvet softness of her cheek
Does it for all—for vanity, not love.
O, once methought it would be next to heaven
To lay my cheek by thine; (at least in dreams,
For love respectful ventures not so near
Its idol;) but away—Truth is my idol,
And she thou art not, for her cheek is pure.
Yes; sooner would I taste that faithless fruit,
With looks enticing while encasing dust,
Than kiss thy cheek, thou roseate lie! Give me
To press the paleness of the lily's leaf,
And I will nourish it, and my true love
Shall pour upon its petals fair a glow
Richer than thou canst draw from falsehood's store!
To lay my cheek by thine; (at least in dreams,
For love respectful ventures not so near
Its idol;) but away—Truth is my idol,
And she thou art not, for her cheek is pure.
Yes; sooner would I taste that faithless fruit,
With looks enticing while encasing dust,
Than kiss thy cheek, thou roseate lie! Give me
To press the paleness of the lily's leaf,
And I will nourish it, and my true love
Shall pour upon its petals fair a glow
Richer than thou canst draw from falsehood's store!
213
Lips, too? Must they be ting'd by art, and lose
The odorous, balmy dew of nature? Nay,
Speak not. Thy words, like founts once pure, become
Over those poisonous beds defiled! Go back
To holy nature, lady, and a heart
That longs to trust thee will pour out its love,
And kneel with thee, once more, before Truth's shrine.
The odorous, balmy dew of nature? Nay,
Speak not. Thy words, like founts once pure, become
Over those poisonous beds defiled! Go back
To holy nature, lady, and a heart
That longs to trust thee will pour out its love,
And kneel with thee, once more, before Truth's shrine.
214
AN INCIDENT.
She gave me violets.—
All know these flowers,
The simple, lovely things,
Decking bright nature's bowers
With blossomings!
With hidden head
They throw their treasures round,
Where careless footsteps tread
The scented ground.
All know these flowers,
The simple, lovely things,
Decking bright nature's bowers
With blossomings!
With hidden head
They throw their treasures round,
Where careless footsteps tread
The scented ground.
She gave me violets.—
Not in the time
Of laughing summer's sway,
Nor in spring's floral prime,
The flowerets' holiday;—
In winter wild,
When the bleak winds were chill,
She gave them,—and they smiled,—
Were odorous still.
Not in the time
Of laughing summer's sway,
Nor in spring's floral prime,
The flowerets' holiday;—
In winter wild,
When the bleak winds were chill,
She gave them,—and they smiled,—
Were odorous still.
215
Sweet, sober violets!
Not in the hall
Where beauty smiles and glows,
And fairy footsteps fall,
And music flows,—
In the retreat
Of Sabbath were ye given,
The Church's fane, where meet
Warm prayer and heaven.
Not in the hall
Where beauty smiles and glows,
And fairy footsteps fall,
And music flows,—
In the retreat
Of Sabbath were ye given,
The Church's fane, where meet
Warm prayer and heaven.
She gave me violets,
Whose odor spread
Like incense-prayer, heaven-tending,
While each slight, delicate head,
Was humbly bending.
The blessed child—
A violet was she,
Growing on this world's wild
So modestly.
Whose odor spread
Like incense-prayer, heaven-tending,
While each slight, delicate head,
Was humbly bending.
The blessed child—
A violet was she,
Growing on this world's wild
So modestly.
216
SEVENTEEN.
In childhood, when my girlish view
Glanced over life's unfading green,
Thoughts undefin'd, and bright, and new,
Would blend with thee, sweet Seventeen.
Glanced over life's unfading green,
Thoughts undefin'd, and bright, and new,
Would blend with thee, sweet Seventeen.
Restrain'd at twelve by matron care,
My walks prescrib'd, my movements seen,
How bright the sun, how free the air
Seem'd circling round fair Seventeen.
My walks prescrib'd, my movements seen,
How bright the sun, how free the air
Seem'd circling round fair Seventeen.
Thirteen arriv'd; but still my book,
My dress, were watch'd with aspect keen,
Scarce on a novel might I look,
And balls—must wait for Seventeen.
My dress, were watch'd with aspect keen,
Scarce on a novel might I look,
And balls—must wait for Seventeen.
Fourteen allowed the evening walk
Where friendship's eye illum'd the scene;
The long romantic bosom-talk,
That talk, which glanced at Seventeen.
Where friendship's eye illum'd the scene;
The long romantic bosom-talk,
That talk, which glanced at Seventeen.
217
The next revolving circle brought
A quicker pulse, yet graver mien;
I read, and practis'd, studied, thought,
For what? to stop at Seventeen.
A quicker pulse, yet graver mien;
I read, and practis'd, studied, thought,
For what? to stop at Seventeen.
Sixteen arriv'd, that witching year
When youthful hearts like buds are seen,
Ready to ope as first appear
The genial rays of Seventeen.
When youthful hearts like buds are seen,
Ready to ope as first appear
The genial rays of Seventeen.
They came—have passed—think not, fair maids,
My hand shall draw that magic screen;
But this I urge, fill well your heads,
And guard your hearts for Seventeen.
My hand shall draw that magic screen;
But this I urge, fill well your heads,
And guard your hearts for Seventeen.
218
CHILDREN AT PLAY.
Sport on; sport on;
A mother's thought, shadow of heavenly love
Dwells on you. In her home, mid household cares,
Kindle up hopes, which deep in its soft folds
Her inmost soul has wrapt. She musing asks,—
A mother's thought, shadow of heavenly love
Dwells on you. In her home, mid household cares,
Kindle up hopes, which deep in its soft folds
Her inmost soul has wrapt. She musing asks,—
“What his high fate, that boy with eagle eye,
And well-knit limbs, and proud impetuous thought?
A patriot, leading men, and breathing forth
His warm soul for his country? or a bard,
With holy song refining earth's cold ear?
A son, holding the torch of love to age
As its closed eye turns dimly to the grave?
Or husband wrapping with protecting arms,
One who leans on him in her trusting youth?”
And well-knit limbs, and proud impetuous thought?
A patriot, leading men, and breathing forth
His warm soul for his country? or a bard,
With holy song refining earth's cold ear?
A son, holding the torch of love to age
As its closed eye turns dimly to the grave?
Or husband wrapping with protecting arms,
One who leans on him in her trusting youth?”
“And for those girls,” she asks, “what gentle fate
Lies cradled on the softest down of time?
A rosy lot must garland out their years—
Those sunny eyes with laughing spirits wild,
Those rounded limbs are all unfit for want,
Or sterner care. Gently will they be borne
On beds of flowers beneath an azure sky.”
Lies cradled on the softest down of time?
A rosy lot must garland out their years—
219
Those rounded limbs are all unfit for want,
Or sterner care. Gently will they be borne
On beds of flowers beneath an azure sky.”
O dreams, fair dreams! God's dower to woman's heart,
Your light and waving curtains still suspend
Before the future which lies dark behind.
Your light and waving curtains still suspend
Before the future which lies dark behind.
220
O COME, MAIDENS, COME!
BOAT SONG.
O come, maidens, come o'er the blue rolling wave,
The lovely should still be the care of the brave.
The lovely should still be the care of the brave.
CHORUS.
Trancadillo, Trancadillo, Trancadillo, dillo, dillo, dillo,With moon-light, and star-light, we'll bound o'er the billow,
Bright billow, gay billow, the billow, billow, billow, billow,
With moon-light, and star-light, we'll bound o'er the billow.
The moon 'neath yon cloud hid her silvery light—
Ye are come—like our fond hopes she glows in your sight.
Ye are come—like our fond hopes she glows in your sight.
Trancadillo, Trancadillo, &c.
With moon-light, and love-light, we'll bound o'er the billow,
Bright billow, gay billow, &c.
With moon-light, and love-light, we'll bound o'er the billow.
With moon-light, and love-light, we'll bound o'er the billow,
Bright billow, gay billow, &c.
With moon-light, and love-light, we'll bound o'er the billow.
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Wake the chorus of song, and our oars shall keep time,
While our hearts gently beat to the musical chime.
While our hearts gently beat to the musical chime.
Trancadillo, Trancadillo, &c.
With oar-beat, and heart-beat, we'll bound o'er the billow,
Bright billow, gay billow, &c.
With oar-beat, and heart-beat, we'll bound o'er the billow.
With oar-beat, and heart-beat, we'll bound o'er the billow,
Bright billow, gay billow, &c.
With oar-beat, and heart-beat, we'll bound o'er the billow.
As the waves gently heave under zephyr's soft sighs,
So the waves of our hearts, neath the glance of your eyes.
So the waves of our hearts, neath the glance of your eyes.
Trancadillo, Trancadillo, &c.
With eye-beam, and heart-beam, we'll bound o'er the billow,
Bright billow, gay billow, &c.
With eye-beam, and heart-beam, we'll bound o'er the billow.
With eye-beam, and heart-beam, we'll bound o'er the billow,
Bright billow, gay billow, &c.
With eye-beam, and heart-beam, we'll bound o'er the billow.
See the helmsman looks forth to you beacon-lit isle;
So we shape our hearts' course by the light of your smile!
So we shape our hearts' course by the light of your smile!
Trancadillo, Trancadillo, &c.
With love-light, and smile-light, we'll bound o'er the billow,
Bright billow, gay billow, &c.
With love-light, and smile-light, we'll bound o'er the billow.
With love-light, and smile-light, we'll bound o'er the billow,
Bright billow, gay billow, &c.
With love-light, and smile-light, we'll bound o'er the billow.
222
And when on life's ocean we turn our slight prow,
May the light-house of hope beam like this on us now.
May the light-house of hope beam like this on us now.
Life's billow, frail billow, the billow, billow, billow,
With hope-light, the true-light, we'll bound o'er life's billow,
Life's billow, frail billow, &c.
With hope-light, the true light, we'll bound o'er life's billow.
With hope-light, the true-light, we'll bound o'er life's billow,
Life's billow, frail billow, &c.
With hope-light, the true light, we'll bound o'er life's billow.
Sullivan's Island, S. C. 1844.
223
TO AN INFANT BOY.
Welcome, soft trembler, to our arms!
We clasp in love thy fragile form;
And struggling with our smiles and tears,
Receive thee mid earth's sun and storm.
We clasp in love thy fragile form;
And struggling with our smiles and tears,
Receive thee mid earth's sun and storm.
Helpless immortal! Strong, though weak!
Even now thou'rt round our hearts entwined,
Thy weakness is thy strength, nor earth
The spell thou bringest can unbind.
Even now thou'rt round our hearts entwined,
Thy weakness is thy strength, nor earth
The spell thou bringest can unbind.
Ray on creation! May thy dawn
Still prove serene and blest as now,
And earthly shades of sorrow flee
From thy soft breast and feeble brow.
Still prove serene and blest as now,
And earthly shades of sorrow flee
From thy soft breast and feeble brow.
Pure opening bud! Unfold in joy
Beneath the fond parental eye,
And may thy blossoms bless their path,
While theirs are ripening for the sky.
Beneath the fond parental eye,
And may thy blossoms bless their path,
While theirs are ripening for the sky.
224
Sweet rainbow on life's tearful sphere!
God's promise to the sad heart given!
Shine on thy parents' gladdened sight,
And be the bond 'twixt them and Heaven.
God's promise to the sad heart given!
Shine on thy parents' gladdened sight,
And be the bond 'twixt them and Heaven.
225
HOUSEHOLD WOMAN.
Graceful may seem the fairy form,
With youth, and health, and beauty warm,
Gliding along the airy dance,
Imparting joy at every glance.
With youth, and health, and beauty warm,
Gliding along the airy dance,
Imparting joy at every glance.
And lovely, too, when o'er the strings
Her hand of music woman flings,
While dewy eyes are upward thrown,
As if from Heaven to claim the tone.
Her hand of music woman flings,
While dewy eyes are upward thrown,
As if from Heaven to claim the tone.
And fair is she, when mental flowers,
Engage her soul's devoted powers,
And wreaths—unfading wreaths of mind,
Around her temples are entwin'd.
Engage her soul's devoted powers,
And wreaths—unfading wreaths of mind,
Around her temples are entwin'd.
But never in her varied sphere
Is woman to the heart more dear,
Than when her homely task she plies,
With cheerful duty in her eyes;
And every lowly path well trod,
Looks meekly upward to her God.
Is woman to the heart more dear,
Than when her homely task she plies,
With cheerful duty in her eyes;
And every lowly path well trod,
Looks meekly upward to her God.
226
THOUGHTS ON ZERLINA THORN.
DROWNED AT TRENTON FALLS.
And art thou gone, fair, graceful child?
I dreamed not, mid this cataract wild,
Thy form would lie,
When, like a bright and budding flower,
I met thee in a summer bower,
Life in thine eye!
I dreamed not, mid this cataract wild,
Thy form would lie,
When, like a bright and budding flower,
I met thee in a summer bower,
Life in thine eye!
I saw thee in the airy dance,
With floating step, with kindling glance,
With happy brow;
A brother's arm around thee clung,
A parent's smile upon thee hung,
Where art thou now?
With floating step, with kindling glance,
With happy brow;
A brother's arm around thee clung,
A parent's smile upon thee hung,
Where art thou now?
O! cold and dark must be the grave,
Love-nurtur'd one!—the dashing wave
Rocks thy death-sleep,
And o'er thy glazed and unclosed eye,
The high-heav'd cliffs, all frowningly,
Their vigils keep!
Love-nurtur'd one!—the dashing wave
Rocks thy death-sleep,
227
The high-heav'd cliffs, all frowningly,
Their vigils keep!
But why repine, though summer dews,
And flowers of soft and blended hues
Deck not thy sod?
Thy spirit from the wave up-springs,
Scatters the white foam from its wings,
And flies to God!
And flowers of soft and blended hues
Deck not thy sod?
Thy spirit from the wave up-springs,
Scatters the white foam from its wings,
And flies to God!
Trenton Falls, N. J.
228
STANZAS.
“Would you not love a lofty monument and far-spread fame?”
Raise not for me the towering urn,
That draws the admiring gazer's eye:—
Dust unto dust will careless turn,
While these proud pageants multiply.
That draws the admiring gazer's eye:—
Dust unto dust will careless turn,
While these proud pageants multiply.
Wake not for me the thrilling peal
Of funeral anthems, full and deep:—
No tones of earth the dead can feel,
Not e'en the sobs of those who weep.
Of funeral anthems, full and deep:—
No tones of earth the dead can feel,
Not e'en the sobs of those who weep.
Strike not for me the poet's lyre
To magnify some passing fame;
The vaults of death will chill his fire,
Nor glow at the Pierian flame.
To magnify some passing fame;
The vaults of death will chill his fire,
Nor glow at the Pierian flame.
Careless am I what spot of earth
Receives this frail and sinking clod;
Enough, if by a heavenly birth
I wake to bliss,—a child of God.
Receives this frail and sinking clod;
Enough, if by a heavenly birth
I wake to bliss,—a child of God.
229
ST. MICHAEL'S TOWER.
St. Michael's spire! St. Michael's spire!
How fair thou risest to the sight,—
Now, glittering in the noon-sun's fire,
Now, softened by the “pale moonlight!”
How fair thou risest to the sight,—
Now, glittering in the noon-sun's fire,
Now, softened by the “pale moonlight!”
Dread storms have thunder'd o'er the sea,
And crush'd the low, and rent the high;
But there thou standest firm and free,
With thy bright forehead to the sky.
And crush'd the low, and rent the high;
But there thou standest firm and free,
With thy bright forehead to the sky.
Fierce fires in rolling volumes came,
But gleam'd innocuous on thy tower,
War's cannon roared with breath of flame,
Scatheless for thee career'd its power.
But gleam'd innocuous on thy tower,
War's cannon roared with breath of flame,
Scatheless for thee career'd its power.
Symmetric spire! Our city's boast,
In scientific grandeur piled!
The guardian beacon of our coast,
The seaman's hope when waves are wild!
In scientific grandeur piled!
The guardian beacon of our coast,
The seaman's hope when waves are wild!
230
Palladium! on thy lonely height,
The faithful watchman walks his round,
While rest and safety rule the night,
And stillness, as of holy ground.
The faithful watchman walks his round,
While rest and safety rule the night,
And stillness, as of holy ground.
All sleep but thee—thy tuneful bells
Hymn to the night-wind in its roar,
Or float upon the Atlantic swells,
That soften summer on our shore.
Hymn to the night-wind in its roar,
Or float upon the Atlantic swells,
That soften summer on our shore.
Soother of sickness! Oft thy chime
A gentle voice to darkness lends;
And speaks a language deep, sublime,
When love o'er dying virtue bends.
A gentle voice to darkness lends;
And speaks a language deep, sublime,
When love o'er dying virtue bends.
Thou guid'st the youth to classic hours,
The laborer to his task confin'd;
The maid, to joy's resplendent bowers,
The ambitious, to the strife of mind.
The laborer to his task confin'd;
The maid, to joy's resplendent bowers,
The ambitious, to the strife of mind.
Thy Sabbath summons, not in vain,
Calls the mixed city to their God;
Each gravely seeks his chosen fane,
And treads the aisle his sires have trod.
Calls the mixed city to their God;
Each gravely seeks his chosen fane,
And treads the aisle his sires have trod.
231
And nobly do thy pæans flow,
When patriots shout the annual strain,
That echoes from far Mexico,
To where St. Lawrence holds his reign.
When patriots shout the annual strain,
That echoes from far Mexico,
To where St. Lawrence holds his reign.
Gliding along bold Ashley's stream,
Or Cooper's, hung with mossy grace,
We turn to gaze upon thy beam,
And hospitable joys retrace.
Or Cooper's, hung with mossy grace,
We turn to gaze upon thy beam,
And hospitable joys retrace.
And tender are the thoughts that rise,
When, sea-bound from thy level shore,
The tear of parting dims our eyes
Till we can view thy point no more.
When, sea-bound from thy level shore,
The tear of parting dims our eyes
Till we can view thy point no more.
And when returning to our land,
The summer exile nears his home,
How beats his heart, and waves his hand,
As first he greets thy welcome dome.
The summer exile nears his home,
How beats his heart, and waves his hand,
As first he greets thy welcome dome.
St. Michael's spire! I close my lay,
Touch'd by the moral thou hast given,
Though duties throng my earthly way,
My look, like thine, shall be to Heaven.
Touch'd by the moral thou hast given,
Though duties throng my earthly way,
My look, like thine, shall be to Heaven.
Charleston, S. C. 1830.
232
MOTHER, WHAT IS DEATH?
“Mother, how still the baby lies—
I cannot hear his breath;
I cannot see his laughing eyes—
They tell me this is death.
I cannot hear his breath;
I cannot see his laughing eyes—
They tell me this is death.
“My little work I tried to bring,
And sit down by his bed,
And pleasantly I tried to sing,—
They hushed me—he is dead.
And sit down by his bed,
And pleasantly I tried to sing,—
They hushed me—he is dead.
“They say that he again will rise,
More beautiful than now,—
That God will bless him in the skies—
O, mother, tell me how!”
More beautiful than now,—
That God will bless him in the skies—
O, mother, tell me how!”
“Daughter, do you remember, dear,
The cold dark thing you brought,
And laid upon the casement here,—
A wither'd worm you thought?
The cold dark thing you brought,
And laid upon the casement here,—
A wither'd worm you thought?
233
“I told you that Almighty power
Could break that wither'd shell,
And show you, in a future hour,
Something would please you well.
Could break that wither'd shell,
And show you, in a future hour,
Something would please you well.
“Look at the chrysalis, my love,—
An empty shell it lies;—
Now raise your wandering thoughts above,
To where yon insect flies!”
An empty shell it lies;—
Now raise your wandering thoughts above,
To where yon insect flies!”
“O yes, mamma, how very gay
Its wings of starry gold—
And see! it lightly flies away
Beyond my gentle hold.
Its wings of starry gold—
And see! it lightly flies away
Beyond my gentle hold.
“O, mother, now I know full well—
If God that worm can change,
And draw it from its broken cell,
On golden wings to range;
If God that worm can change,
And draw it from its broken cell,
On golden wings to range;
“How beautiful will brother be,
When God shall give him wings
Above this dying world to flee,
And live with heavenly things.”
When God shall give him wings
Above this dying world to flee,
And live with heavenly things.”
1827.
234
A SKETCH.
The gay saloon was thronged with grace and beauty,
While brilliant rays shone out on lovely eyes,
And lovely eyes look'd forth a clearer beam.
While brilliant rays shone out on lovely eyes,
And lovely eyes look'd forth a clearer beam.
Fashion was there—not in her flaunting robes,
Lavish of charms—but that fair sprite, who moulds
All to her touch, yet leaves it nature still.
Lavish of charms—but that fair sprite, who moulds
All to her touch, yet leaves it nature still.
The light young laugh came reed-like on the ear,
Touching the chord of joy, electrical;
And smiles, too graceful for a sound, pass'd out
From ruby lips, like perfume from a flower.
Touching the chord of joy, electrical;
And smiles, too graceful for a sound, pass'd out
From ruby lips, like perfume from a flower.
Catching the gracious word of courtesy,
The listening maid turn'd to the speaker's eye;
And bowing in his honor'd lowliness,
His manly head inclin'd to her slight form.
The listening maid turn'd to the speaker's eye;
And bowing in his honor'd lowliness,
His manly head inclin'd to her slight form.
There was a hum of social harmony,
“Like the soft south” upon the rushing seas.
Between its pauses, burst the harp's rich tone,
Pour'd out by one, who fill'd the Poet's eye
With fond fruition of his classic dream.
“Like the soft south” upon the rushing seas.
Between its pauses, burst the harp's rich tone,
Pour'd out by one, who fill'd the Poet's eye
With fond fruition of his classic dream.
235
A voice was there—clear and distinct it rose
Like evening's star when other stars are dim:—
Clear, sweet and lonely, as that southern bird's
Who on far turrets trills his midnight lay.
In the heart's cavern, deep that voice went down,
Waking up echoes of the silent past.
Like evening's star when other stars are dim:—
Clear, sweet and lonely, as that southern bird's
Who on far turrets trills his midnight lay.
In the heart's cavern, deep that voice went down,
Waking up echoes of the silent past.
O, woman! lovely in thy beauty's power!
Thrice lovely, when we know that thou canst turn
To duty's path, and tread it with a smile.
Thrice lovely, when we know that thou canst turn
To duty's path, and tread it with a smile.
236
TO MISS ---, AND HER NIGHT BLOOMING CEREUS.
At morn, when nature lay in early dew,
At noon, when shading branches screen'd the sun,
At twilight, when the parting glow of day
Blush'd on her cheek, or kiss'd her wavy hair,
Or, when the moon with silver radiance ting'd,
Flooded its growing leaves—she watched her bud.
At noon, when shading branches screen'd the sun,
At twilight, when the parting glow of day
Blush'd on her cheek, or kiss'd her wavy hair,
Or, when the moon with silver radiance ting'd,
Flooded its growing leaves—she watched her bud.
It oped its gentle eye at evening hour,
Slow as the virgin's from a happy dream;
Her dark glance turn'd upon its petals pure,
And soft as pure, like new-bath'd infancy;
Her fring'd lids, trembling with her eager joy,
Bow'd o'er its stamens, fring'd, and trembling too.
Slow as the virgin's from a happy dream;
Her dark glance turn'd upon its petals pure,
And soft as pure, like new-bath'd infancy;
Her fring'd lids, trembling with her eager joy,
Bow'd o'er its stamens, fring'd, and trembling too.
Odors stole up in silence from its leaves,
And met those lips, that, bent in curious joy,
Sent back their perfume, to its scented cell.
She gazed far down that many stamen'd cell,
And saw the mysteries of Flora's shrine.
O, lady, study thus the opening folds
Of thy young heart's deep fount, and thou shalt find
As tender mysteries there, as sweet and strange;
And know that naught but Deity could frame
That flower and thee.
It is a “thrice told” prayer
I ask for thee, fair student of this flower,
Yet not less grateful that it is not new;
When sorrow's night shall come, and come it will
To shade the flushing of thy happy prime,
May flowers like this burst forth amid the gloom,
And cheer and bless thy way.
And met those lips, that, bent in curious joy,
Sent back their perfume, to its scented cell.
237
And saw the mysteries of Flora's shrine.
O, lady, study thus the opening folds
Of thy young heart's deep fount, and thou shalt find
As tender mysteries there, as sweet and strange;
And know that naught but Deity could frame
That flower and thee.
It is a “thrice told” prayer
I ask for thee, fair student of this flower,
Yet not less grateful that it is not new;
When sorrow's night shall come, and come it will
To shade the flushing of thy happy prime,
May flowers like this burst forth amid the gloom,
And cheer and bless thy way.
238
CITY CLOUDS AND STARS.
“I was rear'd
In the great city—
And saw naught lovely, but the sky and stars.”
Coleridge.
In the great city—
And saw naught lovely, but the sky and stars.”
Coleridge.
Ye bless'd me in my childish hour,
White clouds, that, sailing by,
Early awoke a spell of power,
And won my gazing eye.
White clouds, that, sailing by,
Early awoke a spell of power,
And won my gazing eye.
And stars, ye glittering toys of heaven,
When on my couch I wept,
To you my youthful thoughts were given,
And thinking thus, I slept.
When on my couch I wept,
To you my youthful thoughts were given,
And thinking thus, I slept.
Still blessingly ye look below;—
When to the world's cold bourne
Mechanical my footsteps go,
My eyes to you upturn.
When to the world's cold bourne
Mechanical my footsteps go,
My eyes to you upturn.
239
The friends I've lost, the lov'd, the fair,
On those white foldings laid,
Come floating on the parting air,
In breezy light array'd.
On those white foldings laid,
Come floating on the parting air,
In breezy light array'd.
What though the city's serried wall
Hides nature from my sight?
Upward I look, and there ye all
Beam forth in lovely light.
Hides nature from my sight?
Upward I look, and there ye all
Beam forth in lovely light.
O, I forget forgetting friends,
Nor weep at envious foes;
Your silent gaze a ray extends
That heals me as it flows.
Nor weep at envious foes;
Your silent gaze a ray extends
That heals me as it flows.
Beautiful ministers of love,
Take, take me upward too;
I ask a resting-place above,
To shine and bless with you!
Take, take me upward too;
I ask a resting-place above,
To shine and bless with you!
Like you look down on aching eyes,
Tir'd with earth's fitful glare,
And kindly float o'er bursting sighs,
And hover o'er despair.
Tir'd with earth's fitful glare,
And kindly float o'er bursting sighs,
And hover o'er despair.
240
O stars, and clouds, and azure ray,
Day-dawn, and evening-glow,
Still o'er my fading fancy play,
Still to my being grow!
Day-dawn, and evening-glow,
Still o'er my fading fancy play,
Still to my being grow!
And when death's winding-sheet shall fold
Coldly my fading form,
Thus glitter in the wintry cold,
Or struggle through the storm;
Coldly my fading form,
Thus glitter in the wintry cold,
Or struggle through the storm;
Or through the sultry summer day,
Your fleecy mantle weave,
Or stud with gems and colors gay,
The sober brow of eve;
Your fleecy mantle weave,
Or stud with gems and colors gay,
The sober brow of eve;
O stars, and sky, and fleecy cloud,
Wait ye, and silent wave
Your standards mid the city's crowd,
Above my trodden grave.
Wait ye, and silent wave
Your standards mid the city's crowd,
Above my trodden grave.
Charleston, S. C. 1824.
241
A LAMENT,
OVER A FAILING MUSICAL VOICE.
Where art thou, friend of former years,
Thou pleasant voice of song,
That gushed from out my inmost heart
In carol soft or strong?
Thou pleasant voice of song,
That gushed from out my inmost heart
In carol soft or strong?
O, I remember still thy lays,
Trilled off with thoughtless glee,
Amid my toys or garden walks,
Or 'neath the spreading tree.
Trilled off with thoughtless glee,
Amid my toys or garden walks,
Or 'neath the spreading tree.
I can recall the nursery song
That soothed my kitten's cries,
And that low note that sought to shut
My dolly's staring eyes.
That soothed my kitten's cries,
And that low note that sought to shut
My dolly's staring eyes.
242
And I remember, as a dream,
My mother's tender pride,
When calling her young singing bird
To warble by her side.
My mother's tender pride,
When calling her young singing bird
To warble by her side.
With head erect, hands clasped before,
And curtsy fitly train'd,
I gave the shrill, ambitious song
With voice unduly strain'd.
And curtsy fitly train'd,
I gave the shrill, ambitious song
With voice unduly strain'd.
And humbler, holier notes than these,
Come back through distant years,
The hymning at that mother's knee,
Who bless'd me through her tears.
Come back through distant years,
The hymning at that mother's knee,
Who bless'd me through her tears.
Then higher feeling rose and grew
With strong, profound control,
Till rich romance swept o'er my life,
And lent my voice a soul.
With strong, profound control,
Till rich romance swept o'er my life,
And lent my voice a soul.
On sunny hills, in woodland depths,
The silver stream along,
Mid meadow flowers and orchard fruits,
I poured the dreamy song.
The silver stream along,
Mid meadow flowers and orchard fruits,
I poured the dreamy song.
243
And when the moon with chastened smile,
Look'd downward on mine eye,
And her soft radiance thrill'd my frame,
It rose in ecstasy.
Look'd downward on mine eye,
And her soft radiance thrill'd my frame,
It rose in ecstasy.
Next Friendship woke my heart's young tune,
As, hand by hand still prest,
Her eyes, like eyes of cherubim,
Look'd deep within my breast.
As, hand by hand still prest,
Her eyes, like eyes of cherubim,
Look'd deep within my breast.
And Love stole near, and as he stirr'd
That heart's unruffled sea,
Tears, smiles, and sighs alternate rose,
Struggling for melody.
That heart's unruffled sea,
Tears, smiles, and sighs alternate rose,
Struggling for melody.
Who hath been young, nor own'd that love
Is like the fabled ray,
Waking the spirit into song
As breaks life's sunny day?
Is like the fabled ray,
Waking the spirit into song
As breaks life's sunny day?
Then came the carol here and there,
Heard from the busy wife,—
Snatches of song that lighten up
The toils and cares of life.
Heard from the busy wife,—
Snatches of song that lighten up
The toils and cares of life.
244
And then the gentle lullaby
That sooth'd the babe to rest,
As, sinking like a twilight flower,
He nestled on my breast,—
That sooth'd the babe to rest,
As, sinking like a twilight flower,
He nestled on my breast,—
Unconscious of the eyes that gaz'd
With fond devotion there,
Unconscious of the broken song,
That form'd itself to prayer.
With fond devotion there,
Unconscious of the broken song,
That form'd itself to prayer.
Nor be thy sacred notes forgot,
Voice of the by-gone days!
The lay of evening penitence,
The morning hymn of praise.
Voice of the by-gone days!
The lay of evening penitence,
The morning hymn of praise.
Nor yet th' inspiring, holy swell
Of Sabbath's blessed chime,
Which bore upon its upward wing
The cares of earth and time.
Of Sabbath's blessed chime,
Which bore upon its upward wing
The cares of earth and time.
O, truant voice of former song,
Return, return again!
My heart is young, awake once more
Thy glad and solemn strain.
Return, return again!
My heart is young, awake once more
Thy glad and solemn strain.
245
The bright round hills are standing still,
The woodland depths are green,
The orchards glow with autumn fruit,
And streamlets glide between;
The woodland depths are green,
The orchards glow with autumn fruit,
And streamlets glide between;
The lovely moon still mounts her car,
Flooding the earth and sea,—
Voice of my youth, on that bright ray
Why glid'st thou not to me?
Flooding the earth and sea,—
Voice of my youth, on that bright ray
Why glid'st thou not to me?
Friendship is true, and love still warm,
And Sabbath hymns are sung,—
With passionate appeal I ask,
Why leave thy lyre unstrung?
And Sabbath hymns are sung,—
With passionate appeal I ask,
Why leave thy lyre unstrung?
How silent!—but methinks I hear
A whisper from afar,
That tells me we shall meet again
Where new-cloth'd voices are!
A whisper from afar,
That tells me we shall meet again
Where new-cloth'd voices are!
And mine, mine own, will sound once more
Amid the eternal choir,
And swell in loftier, sweeter strains,
To some celestial lyre.
Amid the eternal choir,
And swell in loftier, sweeter strains,
To some celestial lyre.
1830.
246
TO MY DAUGHTER.
Thou wert my pride in babyhood, a bright and fairy thing,
With dimpling smiles, and mottled arms, and quick elastic spring;
With teeth that lay like little shells upon a coral bed,
And hair as soft as gossamer by summer breezes sped.
With dimpling smiles, and mottled arms, and quick elastic spring;
With teeth that lay like little shells upon a coral bed,
And hair as soft as gossamer by summer breezes sped.
Thou wert my pride when thy first word in broken accents woke,
And thought from out its prison-cell in simple phrases broke;
And when thy tottling velvet feet the spell of weakness spurned,
And to my arms, with frantic laugh, thy outspread arms were turned!
And thought from out its prison-cell in simple phrases broke;
And when thy tottling velvet feet the spell of weakness spurned,
And to my arms, with frantic laugh, thy outspread arms were turned!
247
Thou wert my pride in childhood, when demurely to thy school,
Thou trod'st thy way industrious, beneath a teacher's rule;
And when each swift revolving year a learned honor brought,
In shape of shining premium, by scholar-craft still bought.
Thou trod'st thy way industrious, beneath a teacher's rule;
And when each swift revolving year a learned honor brought,
In shape of shining premium, by scholar-craft still bought.
Proud was I of thy tuneful art, when thought, matured and free,
Lent to thy voice and words a tone of golden minstrelsy;
I've closed my eyes, and dreamed that such would be the seraph strain
That to the spirit-world would call my spirit back again.
Lent to thy voice and words a tone of golden minstrelsy;
I've closed my eyes, and dreamed that such would be the seraph strain
That to the spirit-world would call my spirit back again.
Proud was I of thy household step, with all its busy arts,
Which to the social fire-side life its quietness imparts;
I joyed to hear thy broken song, thy light and careless jest,
Spring forth when aiming thus to make the friends who love thee blest.
Which to the social fire-side life its quietness imparts;
I joyed to hear thy broken song, thy light and careless jest,
Spring forth when aiming thus to make the friends who love thee blest.
248
But now I have a tenderer pride. Yes, when upon my frame
With aching head, and throbbing pulse, the fever tempest came,
And I saw thine eye in sympathy bend o'er my restless bed,
And saw thy form go quietly, with gently thoughtful tread—
With aching head, and throbbing pulse, the fever tempest came,
And I saw thine eye in sympathy bend o'er my restless bed,
And saw thy form go quietly, with gently thoughtful tread—
And felt thy kiss of lovingness fall sweetly on my cheek,
And heard thy voice in whisperings thy patient nursing speak—
I knew how pain and weariness by love can be beguiled,
And turned to Heaven indeed with pride, that thou, thou art my child.
And heard thy voice in whisperings thy patient nursing speak—
I knew how pain and weariness by love can be beguiled,
And turned to Heaven indeed with pride, that thou, thou art my child.
1838.
249
MIDNIGHT AT SULLIVAN'S ISLAND.
She sleeps, my own fair city, and the moon
Looks down with guardian eyes, as clear and still
As a fond mother's o'er her infant child—
As still—as wakeful.—How profound her sleep!
Looks down with guardian eyes, as clear and still
As a fond mother's o'er her infant child—
As still—as wakeful.—How profound her sleep!
The light-house fire burns on, emblem of Him
Who rests not mid the slumbering, but on high
Holds his bright torch o'er yet uncounted worlds.
Peace is around in nature—peace and joy!
Scarcely a cloud is seen, save one, which like
A veil o'er beauty lends a softer ray
To heaven's bright eyes, that look out through the stars,
While the west wind, in gentle breezes, sweeps
The gentle wave.
How distant yet how near
Seems the great city—near; for I have heard
The sounding bell when the tenth hour was toll'd;—
Near for I see the fading lights retire,
As one by one men seek oblivious rest.
The old man goes to sleep through dreamless hours,
Unless perchance a thought of youth steals in
And opens the far past;—and childhood sleeps,
Its light breast heaving like the young pine tops,
When sway'd by southern winds, that die in calms.
Some sink upon their pillow, tired of life,
And heavily lie down to shut their eyes
On earth's cold vanities; some, haunted by
Fierce crimes, toss on a restless couch and sigh
For breaking morn; some, bless'd with virtue's meed,
A happy heart, close their soft lids and dream
Of good deeds done, and blessings yet in store.
Who rests not mid the slumbering, but on high
Holds his bright torch o'er yet uncounted worlds.
Peace is around in nature—peace and joy!
Scarcely a cloud is seen, save one, which like
A veil o'er beauty lends a softer ray
To heaven's bright eyes, that look out through the stars,
While the west wind, in gentle breezes, sweeps
The gentle wave.
How distant yet how near
Seems the great city—near; for I have heard
The sounding bell when the tenth hour was toll'd;—
250
As one by one men seek oblivious rest.
The old man goes to sleep through dreamless hours,
Unless perchance a thought of youth steals in
And opens the far past;—and childhood sleeps,
Its light breast heaving like the young pine tops,
When sway'd by southern winds, that die in calms.
Some sink upon their pillow, tired of life,
And heavily lie down to shut their eyes
On earth's cold vanities; some, haunted by
Fierce crimes, toss on a restless couch and sigh
For breaking morn; some, bless'd with virtue's meed,
A happy heart, close their soft lids and dream
Of good deeds done, and blessings yet in store.
And is crime brooding now, o'er that still scene,
Active, and eager, in these tranquil hours?
O, may Heaven shield thee, city of my heart—
Home of my household—where my dead repose!
God guard the living—would that I could hear
Their sleeping breath, and bless them as they lie!
The dead need not my blessing—safe are they.
Active, and eager, in these tranquil hours?
O, may Heaven shield thee, city of my heart—
Home of my household—where my dead repose!
God guard the living—would that I could hear
Their sleeping breath, and bless them as they lie!
The dead need not my blessing—safe are they.
How far she seems, the city of my love!
The kindling spark might wrap her towers in flame,
And my weak voice sound faint as insect's wing,
When thunders shake the air!
My yearning soul
Looks towards her, as the fluttering bird that leaves
Its mother's nest too soon, and pants for home.
O, I am lonely in this midnight scene.
God guard the sleepers—I will go and pray.
The kindling spark might wrap her towers in flame,
And my weak voice sound faint as insect's wing,
When thunders shake the air!
251
Looks towards her, as the fluttering bird that leaves
Its mother's nest too soon, and pants for home.
O, I am lonely in this midnight scene.
God guard the sleepers—I will go and pray.
1828.
252
MY PIAZZA.
My piazza, my piazza! some boast their lordly halls
Where soften'd gleams of curtain'd light on golden treasure falls,
Where pictures in ancestral rank look stately side by side,
And forms of beauty and of grace move on in living pride!
Where soften'd gleams of curtain'd light on golden treasure falls,
Where pictures in ancestral rank look stately side by side,
And forms of beauty and of grace move on in living pride!
I envy not the gorgeousness that decks the crowded room,
Where vases with exotic flowers throw out their sick perfume,
With carpets where the slippered foot sinks soft in downy swell,
And mirror'd walls reflect the cheek where dimpled beauties dwell.
Where vases with exotic flowers throw out their sick perfume,
With carpets where the slippered foot sinks soft in downy swell,
And mirror'd walls reflect the cheek where dimpled beauties dwell.
253
My fresh and cool piazza! I seek the healthy breeze
That circles round thy shading vines and softly-waving trees,
With step on step monotonous, I tread thy level floor,
And muse upon the sacred past or calmly look before.
That circles round thy shading vines and softly-waving trees,
With step on step monotonous, I tread thy level floor,
And muse upon the sacred past or calmly look before.
My bright and gay piazza! I love thee in the hour,
When morning decks with dewy gems the wavy blade and flower,
When the small bird lights and sings his song upon the neighboring tree,
As if his notes were only made to cheer himself and me.
When morning decks with dewy gems the wavy blade and flower,
When the small bird lights and sings his song upon the neighboring tree,
As if his notes were only made to cheer himself and me.
My cool and fresh piazza! I love thee when the sun
His long and fervid circuit o'er the burning earth has run,
I joy to watch his parting light loom upward to the eye,
And view the pencil-touch shade off and then in softness die.
His long and fervid circuit o'er the burning earth has run,
I joy to watch his parting light loom upward to the eye,
And view the pencil-touch shade off and then in softness die.
254
Contemplative piazza! I love in twilight gloom
To see the crescent moon tread forth through heaven's o'er-arching room,
To inhale the breath of closing flowers, to hear the night-bird's cry,
As with a floating wing he soars and cuts the fading sky.
To see the crescent moon tread forth through heaven's o'er-arching room,
To inhale the breath of closing flowers, to hear the night-bird's cry,
As with a floating wing he soars and cuts the fading sky.
My sociable piazza! I prize thy quiet talk,
When arm in arm with one I love, I tread the accustomed walk;
Or loll within our rocking-chairs, not over nice or wise,
And yield the careless confidence where heart to heart replies.
When arm in arm with one I love, I tread the accustomed walk;
Or loll within our rocking-chairs, not over nice or wise,
And yield the careless confidence where heart to heart replies.
My piazza, my piazza! my spirit oft rejoices
When from thy distant nooks I hear the sound of youthful voices,
The careless jest, the bursting laugh, the carol wildly gay,
Or cheerful step with exercise that crowns the studious day.
When from thy distant nooks I hear the sound of youthful voices,
The careless jest, the bursting laugh, the carol wildly gay,
Or cheerful step with exercise that crowns the studious day.
255
My beautiful piazza! thou hast thy nightly boast;
When brightly in the darken'd sky appear the heavenly host,
Arcturus glows more brilliantly than monarch's blazing gem,
And fair Corona sits enshrined, like angel's diadem.
When brightly in the darken'd sky appear the heavenly host,
Arcturus glows more brilliantly than monarch's blazing gem,
And fair Corona sits enshrined, like angel's diadem.
My lov'd and lone piazza! the dear ones have departed,
And each, their nightly pillow seek, the young and happy-hearted;
I linger still,—a solemn hush is brooding o'er the skies,
A solemn hush upon the earth in tender silence lies.
And each, their nightly pillow seek, the young and happy-hearted;
I linger still,—a solemn hush is brooding o'er the skies,
A solemn hush upon the earth in tender silence lies.
I feel as if a spirit's wing came near and brush'd my heart,
And bade before I yield to sleep earth's heavy cares depart,—
Father, in all simplicity I breathe the prayer I love,
O, watch around my slumbering form, or take my soul above.
And bade before I yield to sleep earth's heavy cares depart,—
Father, in all simplicity I breathe the prayer I love,
O, watch around my slumbering form, or take my soul above.
256
MY GARDEN.
My garden fresh and beautiful, the spell of frost is o'er,
And earth sends out its varied leaves, a rich and lavish store;
My heart too breaks its wintry chain, with stem, and leaf and flower,
And glows in hope and happiness amid the springtide hour.
And earth sends out its varied leaves, a rich and lavish store;
My heart too breaks its wintry chain, with stem, and leaf and flower,
And glows in hope and happiness amid the springtide hour.
'T is sunset in my garden;—the flowers and buds have caught
Bright revelations from the skies in wondrous changes wrought;
And, as the twilight hastens on, a spiritual calm
Seems resting on the quiet leaves, which evening dews embalm.
Bright revelations from the skies in wondrous changes wrought;
And, as the twilight hastens on, a spiritual calm
Seems resting on the quiet leaves, which evening dews embalm.
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'T is moonlight in my garden; like some fair babe at rest
The day-flower folds its silky wing upon its pulseless breast;
Nor is it rain philosophy to think that plants may keep
A holiday of airy dreams beneath their graceful sleep.
The day-flower folds its silky wing upon its pulseless breast;
Nor is it rain philosophy to think that plants may keep
A holiday of airy dreams beneath their graceful sleep.
'T is morning in my garden;—each leaf of crisped green
Hangs tremulous in diamond gems, with em'rald rays between;
It is the birth of nature,—baptiz'd in early dew,
The plants look meekly up and smile as if their God they knew.
Hangs tremulous in diamond gems, with em'rald rays between;
It is the birth of nature,—baptiz'd in early dew,
The plants look meekly up and smile as if their God they knew.
My garden fair and brilliant!—the butterfly outspread
Alights with gentle fluttering on the wall-flower's golden head,
Then darting to the lily bed, floats o'er its sheeted white,
And settles on the violet's cup with fanciful delight.
Alights with gentle fluttering on the wall-flower's golden head,
Then darting to the lily bed, floats o'er its sheeted white,
And settles on the violet's cup with fanciful delight.
My quiet little garden!—I hear the rolling wheel
Of the city's busy multitude along the highway peal,
I tread thy paths more fondly, and inhale the circling air
That glads and cools me on its way from that wide mart of care.
Of the city's busy multitude along the highway peal,
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That glads and cools me on its way from that wide mart of care.
My friendly little garden! few worldly goods have I
To tender with o'erflowing heart in blessed charity,
But like the cup of water, by a pure disciple given,
And herb or flower may tell its tale of kindliness in heaven.
To tender with o'erflowing heart in blessed charity,
But like the cup of water, by a pure disciple given,
And herb or flower may tell its tale of kindliness in heaven.
My small herbescent garden! what though I may not raise
High tribute to thy fruitfulness in these familiar lays,
Yet when thy few shrunk radishes I pluck with eager haste,
They seem a daintier food to me than gods ambrosial taste.
High tribute to thy fruitfulness in these familiar lays,
Yet when thy few shrunk radishes I pluck with eager haste,
They seem a daintier food to me than gods ambrosial taste.
As as for those three artichokes, the fruit of toilsome care,
And my angel-visit cucumbers, that come so sparse and rare,
And the straggling ears of corn that shoot so meagre, thin, and small,
To me they still outweigh the hoards that crowd the market stall.
And my angel-visit cucumbers, that come so sparse and rare,
And the straggling ears of corn that shoot so meagre, thin, and small,
To me they still outweigh the hoards that crowd the market stall.
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I own I have mistakenly oft train'd a vulgar weed,
And rooted up with savage hand some choice and costly seed,
And boiled a precious bulbous-root of lineage high and rare,
And planted onions in a jar with most superfluous care;
And rooted up with savage hand some choice and costly seed,
And boiled a precious bulbous-root of lineage high and rare,
And planted onions in a jar with most superfluous care;
But truth springs out of error, and right succeeds to wrong,
Mistakes that wound, and weeds that vex, give morals to my song,
They bid me clear my mental soil and calmly look within,
To check the growth of earth's wild weeds—of passion and of sin.
Mistakes that wound, and weeds that vex, give morals to my song,
They bid me clear my mental soil and calmly look within,
To check the growth of earth's wild weeds—of passion and of sin.
To nobler themes, and hopes, and joys, my garden culture tends;
To that high world where only flower without the weed ascends,
I lift my soul in reverie, enraptur'd and alone,
Still coining links of thought that wreathe my spirit to God's throne.
To that high world where only flower without the weed ascends,
I lift my soul in reverie, enraptur'd and alone,
Still coining links of thought that wreathe my spirit to God's throne.
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Yet sadness sometimes fills my mind, as each unfolding sweet
Springs up in ready beauty beneath my household's feet,
For some young hand that gathers now the plants that gaily wave,
May shortly lie in wither'd bloom within the dreary grave.
Springs up in ready beauty beneath my household's feet,
For some young hand that gathers now the plants that gaily wave,
May shortly lie in wither'd bloom within the dreary grave.
My faith-inspiring garden!—thy seeds so dark and cold
Late slept in utter loneliness amid earth's senseless mould;
No sunbeams fell upon them, nor west wind's gentle breath,
But there they lay in nothingness, an image meet of death.
Late slept in utter loneliness amid earth's senseless mould;
No sunbeams fell upon them, nor west wind's gentle breath,
But there they lay in nothingness, an image meet of death.
Now, lo! they rise in gorgeous ranks, and glad the eager eye,
And on the wooing summer breeze their odor passes by;
The flower-grave cannot chain them, the spirit-life upsprings,
And scatters beauty in its path from thousand unseen wings.
And on the wooing summer breeze their odor passes by;
The flower-grave cannot chain them, the spirit-life upsprings,
And scatters beauty in its path from thousand unseen wings.
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MY KNITTING WORK.
Youth's buds have oped and fallen from my life's expanding tree,
And soberer fruits have ripen'd on its harden'd stalks for me;
No longer with a buoyant step I tread my pilgrim way,
And earth's horizon closer bends from hastening day to day.
And soberer fruits have ripen'd on its harden'd stalks for me;
No longer with a buoyant step I tread my pilgrim way,
And earth's horizon closer bends from hastening day to day.
No more with curious questioning I seek the fervid crowd,
Nor to ambition's glittering shrine I feel my spirit bowed,
But, as bewitching flatteries from worldly ones depart,
Love's circle narrows deeply about my quiet heart.
Nor to ambition's glittering shrine I feel my spirit bowed,
But, as bewitching flatteries from worldly ones depart,
Love's circle narrows deeply about my quiet heart.
Home joys come thronging round me, bright, blessed, gentle, kind;
The social meal, the fireside book, unfetter'd mind with mind;
The unsought song that asks no praise, but spirit-stirr'd and free,
Wakes up within the thoughtful soul remember'd melody.
The social meal, the fireside book, unfetter'd mind with mind;
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Wakes up within the thoughtful soul remember'd melody.
Nor shall my humble knitting work pass unregarded here,
The faithful friend who oft has chas'd a furrow or a tear,
Who comes with still unwearied round to cheer my failing eye,
And bid the curse of ennui from its polished weapons fly.
The faithful friend who oft has chas'd a furrow or a tear,
Who comes with still unwearied round to cheer my failing eye,
And bid the curse of ennui from its polished weapons fly.
Companionable knitting work! when gayer friends depart,
Thou hold'st thy busy station even very near my heart;
And when no social living tones to sympathy appeal,
I hear a gentle accent from thy softly clashing steel.
Thou hold'st thy busy station even very near my heart;
And when no social living tones to sympathy appeal,
I hear a gentle accent from thy softly clashing steel.
My confidential knitting work! a trusty friend art thou,
As smooth and shining on my lap thou liest beside me now;
Thou know'st some stories of my thoughts the many may not know,
As round and round the accustom'd path my careful fingers go.
As smooth and shining on my lap thou liest beside me now;
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As round and round the accustom'd path my careful fingers go.
Sweet, silent, quiet knitting work! thou interruptest not
My reveries and pleasant thoughts, forgetting and forgot!
I take thee up, and lay thee down, and use thee as I may,
And not a contradicting word thy burnish'd lips will say.
My reveries and pleasant thoughts, forgetting and forgot!
I take thee up, and lay thee down, and use thee as I may,
And not a contradicting word thy burnish'd lips will say.
My moralizing knitting work! thy threads most aptly show
How evenly around life's span our busy threads should go;
And if a stitch perchance should drop, as life's frail stitches will,
How, if we patient take it up, the work may prosper still.
How evenly around life's span our busy threads should go;
And if a stitch perchance should drop, as life's frail stitches will,
How, if we patient take it up, the work may prosper still.
THE END.
| Verses of a life time | |