 | The lost pleiad ; and other poems |  |
TO ONE IN HEAVEN.
“Joy's recollection is no longer joy,
But sorrow's memory is sorrow still!”
But sorrow's memory is sorrow still!”
There is no time through all the spring,
Nor through the long, long year,
That Nature does not something bring,
To make thy memory dear.
The scent of flowers—the same sweet tone
Thy sweeter voice hath given—
Remind me thou wert here mine own,
And shalt be mine in Heaven!
Nor through the long, long year,
That Nature does not something bring,
To make thy memory dear.
The scent of flowers—the same sweet tone
Thy sweeter voice hath given—
Remind me thou wert here mine own,
And shalt be mine in Heaven!
I look for thee when Spring returns—
I look for thee, in vain,
In Summer, when my spirit yearns
To be with thee again;
For so celestial was the tie
That bound us here, that even
I would be willing now to die,
To meet thee safe in Heaven!
I look for thee, in vain,
In Summer, when my spirit yearns
To be with thee again;
For so celestial was the tie
That bound us here, that even
I would be willing now to die,
To meet thee safe in Heaven!
The more we shed our fruitless tears,
The more we love to mourn;
For though we lived ten thousand years,
The lost would not return!
And all we have to soothe our wo
In this dark world, is given
By Hope, which tells us, we should know
That we shall meet in Heaven.
The more we love to mourn;
For though we lived ten thousand years,
The lost would not return!
And all we have to soothe our wo
In this dark world, is given
By Hope, which tells us, we should know
That we shall meet in Heaven.
Oaky Grove, Ga., May 10th, 1837.
| The lost pleiad ; and other poems | |