 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
To S****, weeping.—Anonymous.
Why shouldst thou weep? No cause hast thou
For one desponding sigh;
No care has marked that polished brow,
Nor dimmed thy radiant eye.
For one desponding sigh;
No care has marked that polished brow,
Nor dimmed thy radiant eye.
192
Why shouldst thou weep? Around thee glows
The purple light of youth,
And all thy looks the calm disclose
Of innocence and truth.
The purple light of youth,
And all thy looks the calm disclose
Of innocence and truth.
Nay, weep not while thy sun shines bright,
And cloudless is thy day,
While past and present joys unite
To cheer thee on thy way;
And cloudless is thy day,
While past and present joys unite
To cheer thee on thy way;
While fond companions round thee move,
To youth and nature true,
And friends, whose looks of anxious love
Thy every step pursue.
To youth and nature true,
And friends, whose looks of anxious love
Thy every step pursue.
Nay, weep not now: reserve thy tears
For that approaching hour,
When o'er the scenes of other years
The clouds of time shall lower;
For that approaching hour,
When o'er the scenes of other years
The clouds of time shall lower;
When thou, alas! no more canst see,
But in the realms above,
The friends who ever looked on thee
Unutterable love;
But in the realms above,
The friends who ever looked on thee
Unutterable love;
When some, thy fond companions now,
And constant to thy side,
View thee with anger-darkening brow,
Or cold, repulsive pride;
And constant to thy side,
View thee with anger-darkening brow,
Or cold, repulsive pride;
Or some, the faithful of that band,
Bless thee with faltering breath,
While from their lips thy trembling hand
Wipes the chill dews of death.
Bless thee with faltering breath,
While from their lips thy trembling hand
Wipes the chill dews of death.
Nay, weep not now: reserve thy tears
For that approaching day,
When, through the gradual lapse of years,
All joys have stol'n away;
For that approaching day,
When, through the gradual lapse of years,
All joys have stol'n away;
When Memory a wavering light
Sheds dimly o'er the past,
And Hope no longer veils from sight
The horrors of the last.
Sheds dimly o'er the past,
And Hope no longer veils from sight
The horrors of the last.
193
Nay, weep not then: let but the ray
Of heavenly peace be thine,
Glorious shall be thy summer's day,
Unclouded its decline.
Of heavenly peace be thine,
Glorious shall be thy summer's day,
Unclouded its decline.
Then Memory's light, though dim, shall show
How pure thy former years,
While Hope her holiest ray shall throw
On realms beyond the spheres.
How pure thy former years,
While Hope her holiest ray shall throw
On realms beyond the spheres.
| The American common-place book of poetry | |