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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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32

THE CHERISHED FLOWER.

“An Eve in this Eden.”—
Shelley.

Amid the green things of my life's young spring,
One Rose there was which bloomed serenely bright,
From whose sweet leaves the zephyrs used to bring
Odors which wafted me to pure delight.
I treasured every breath of air that came
To waft its cherished redolence away,
Because, through every change, it was the same—
More beautiful by night than by the day.
A hopeful freshness lay upon its leaves,
Which prophesied new joys, as it did lie
Soft in the lap of Summer, which now grieves
That anything so beautiful could die!
At last, the Autumn winds began to howl
In jealous madness for the sweets it bore;
And, striving to deflower, drove off its soul,
Whose tender sweets shall comfort me no more!
New York, June 1st, 1839.
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