The American common-place book of poetry with occasional notes |
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Lines on hearing of the Death of Garafilia Mohalbi.—Mrs. Sigourney.
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 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
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Lines on hearing of the Death of Garafilia Mohalbi.—Mrs. Sigourney.
Sweet bird of Ipsera! that fled
From tyrants o'er the tossing sea,
And on the winds of freedom shed
Thy wildly classic melody,—
Love at thy tender warbling woke,
A foreign land was home to thee,
And stranger voices fondly spoke
The welcome of paternity.
From tyrants o'er the tossing sea,
And on the winds of freedom shed
Thy wildly classic melody,—
Love at thy tender warbling woke,
A foreign land was home to thee,
And stranger voices fondly spoke
The welcome of paternity.
Why was thy tarrying here so brief,
Thou sheltered in affection's breast?
Here were no woes to wake thy grief,
Nor dangers to corrode thy rest.
Ah! thou had'st heard of that blessed clime
Where everlasting glories beam:—
Perchance its groves and skies sublime
Had burst upon thy raptured dream.
Thou sheltered in affection's breast?
Here were no woes to wake thy grief,
Nor dangers to corrode thy rest.
Ah! thou had'st heard of that blessed clime
Where everlasting glories beam:—
Perchance its groves and skies sublime
Had burst upon thy raptured dream.
Thy bright wing spread. Should aught detain
The prisoner in a cage of clay,
When, echoing from the heavenly plain,
Congenial tones forbid delay?
No: where no archer's shaft can fly,
No winter check the tuneful sphere,
Rise, wanderer, to thy native sky,
And warble in a Savior's ear.
The prisoner in a cage of clay,
When, echoing from the heavenly plain,
Congenial tones forbid delay?
No: where no archer's shaft can fly,
No winter check the tuneful sphere,
Rise, wanderer, to thy native sky,
And warble in a Savior's ear.
| The American common-place book of poetry | |