Original, serious, and religious poetry :: :: University of Virginia Library

O hast thou seen the sinking frame,
Beneath contagion waste!
The soul departing from the same,
Departing too in haste,
Before it flies relieved with word,
The knowledge of a dying Lord?

I've seen the hall, the rich saloon,
The splendid fashion's feast;
I've seen the sluggard rise at noon,
Sun neither west nor east.
In foreign clime I've known the gay,
Delight to revel out the day.

191

In youthful hour, my spirit high,
How oft the cottage door,
I've past it, yes, and thoughtfully
Beheld the clean brick floor!
Have ponder'd on the homely scene,
And found a pleasure intervene.

Poor Will, the ragged, rough, unshod,
Plain sturdy sailor's lad,
His barefoot placed upon the sod,
His body just half clad;
I've seen thee run with naked foot,
Along the mud for fowl or coot.

Marbles, tops, all sorts of play,
All festive gambols known,
I've written, thought, and drawn away,
At moments all my own.
Through scenes of life I've passed along,
The busy, light, and serious throng.

192

Strange to thee the thought may be,
And strange for me to tell,
In earliest day some piety,
Would love with me to dwell.
Yet though I felt I dare not own,
For fear the frivolous should frown.

Think not howe'er no sin was mine,
Alas I shudder now,
I've no excuse, hast thou for thine?
O none at all I trow.
For sins of past, and passing day,
Through him above I ever pray.

Still 'twas a pleasure to do good,
To give to those in want,
My mother taught me as she should,
To do it without cant.
To give when no one could perceive,
In secret visit, and in love relieve.

193

A thousand pleasures I have known,
I call no pleasure sin,
In error sometimes sadly shown
A fancied joy therein!
But pleasures really, really, so,
To visit those in want or woe.

The widow, ah the heart of steel,
Must bend to see thee weep,
Sons of pleasure can ye feel,
In mourners cottage peep.
See the widows children fed,
With scarce enough of wholesome bread.

O how chang'd are men of state,
When pride has had a fall;
They often murmur at their fate,
Pay disrespect to all:
The widow weeps, and thankful is,
For Charity's all gracious bliss.

194

Sons and daughters love your own,
Your parents, friends, and kin,
The seeds of piety well sown,
Begin to bud therein.
A loving child's a parents joy,
The widows peace her youngest boy.

O nature! nature! thou wast made
By one who never fails:
What man thy dictates can evade,
Thy force o'er all prevails.
Yet God of nature will supply,
The Spirits aid to live thereby.