 | The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield |  |
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TO MY DAUGHTER GENEVIEVE.
Star of my being's early night!
Tender but most triumphant flower!
Frail form of dust and heavenly light!
Rainbow of storms that round me lour!
Of tested love the pledge renewed,
The milder luminary given
To guide me through earth's solitude,
To Love's own home of bliss in heaven.
Tender but most triumphant flower!
Frail form of dust and heavenly light!
Rainbow of storms that round me lour!
Of tested love the pledge renewed,
The milder luminary given
To guide me through earth's solitude,
To Love's own home of bliss in heaven.
Heiress of Fate! thy soft blue eye
Throws o'er the earth its brightness now,
As sunlight gushes from the sky
In glory o'er the far hill's brow;
And light from thine ethereal home
On every sinless moment lingers,
As hope, o'er happier days to come,
Thrills the heart's harp with viewless fingers.
Throws o'er the earth its brightness now,
As sunlight gushes from the sky
In glory o'er the far hill's brow;
And light from thine ethereal home
On every sinless moment lingers,
As hope, o'er happier days to come,
Thrills the heart's harp with viewless fingers.
For, from the fount of Godhead, thou,
A ray midst myriads wandering down,
Still wear'st upon that stainless brow
The seraph's pure and glorious crown;
Still—from thy Maker's bosom taken
To bear thy trial time below,
Like sunlight flowers, by winds unshaken,
The dews of heaven around thee glow.
A ray midst myriads wandering down,
Still wear'st upon that stainless brow
The seraph's pure and glorious crown;
Still—from thy Maker's bosom taken
To bear thy trial time below,
Like sunlight flowers, by winds unshaken,
The dews of heaven around thee glow.
Hours o'er thy placid spirit pass
Like forest streams that glide and sing,
As through the fresh and fragrant grass
Breathes the immortal soul of spring;
And through the realms of thy blest dreams,
Thy high mysterious thoughts of Time,
Heaven's watchers roam by Eden streams,
And hail thee, Love! in hymns sublime.
Like forest streams that glide and sing,
As through the fresh and fragrant grass
Breathes the immortal soul of spring;
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Thy high mysterious thoughts of Time,
Heaven's watchers roam by Eden streams,
And hail thee, Love! in hymns sublime.
But these bright days will vanish, Love!
And thou wilt learn to weep o'er truth,
And with a saddened spirit prove
That bliss abides alone with youth.
Cares may corrode that lovely cheek,
And fears convulse that gentle heart,
And agonies, thou dar'st not speak,
Deepen as childhood's hours depart.
And thou wilt learn to weep o'er truth,
And with a saddened spirit prove
That bliss abides alone with youth.
Cares may corrode that lovely cheek,
And fears convulse that gentle heart,
And agonies, thou dar'st not speak,
Deepen as childhood's hours depart.
And thou, fair child! as years descend
In darkness on thy desert track,
May'st tread thy path without a friend,
Gaze on through tears, through shadows back,
And sigh unheard by all who stood
Around thee on a happier day,
And struggle with the torrent flood,
That sweeps thy last pale hope away.
In darkness on thy desert track,
May'st tread thy path without a friend,
Gaze on through tears, through shadows back,
And sigh unheard by all who stood
Around thee on a happier day,
And struggle with the torrent flood,
That sweeps thy last pale hope away.
O'er the soft light of that blue eye
Clouds of wild gloom may quickly gather,
As, ere the sunburst of his sky,
The tempest fell around thy father;
And mid the cold world's wealth and pride,
The chill of crowds, life's restless stir,
Thou mayst unknown with grief abide,
Lone as the sea of Anadir.
Clouds of wild gloom may quickly gather,
As, ere the sunburst of his sky,
The tempest fell around thy father;
And mid the cold world's wealth and pride,
The chill of crowds, life's restless stir,
Thou mayst unknown with grief abide,
Lone as the sea of Anadir.
And thou wilt grow in beauty, love!
While I am mouldering in the gloom,
And like the summer rill and grove,
Sigh a brief sorrow o'er my tomb;
And thou wilt tread the same wild path
Of mirth and madness all have trod
Since time gave birth to sin and wrath—
Till from the dust thou soar to God!
While I am mouldering in the gloom,
And like the summer rill and grove,
Sigh a brief sorrow o'er my tomb;
And thou wilt tread the same wild path
Of mirth and madness all have trod
Since time gave birth to sin and wrath—
Till from the dust thou soar to God!
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Doubt may assail thy soul, and woes
Gather into a burning chain,
And round thy darkened spirit close
Mid loneliness, disease and pain,
When I no more can watch and guard
Thy daily steps, thy nightly rest,
Nor, with the strength of sorrow, ward
Earth's evil from thy spotless breast.
Gather into a burning chain,
And round thy darkened spirit close
Mid loneliness, disease and pain,
When I no more can watch and guard
Thy daily steps, thy nightly rest,
Nor, with the strength of sorrow, ward
Earth's evil from thy spotless breast.
Fed by the dust that gave thee breath,
Wild flowers may bloom above my grave,
And sigh in every night breeze, Death,
When thou shalt shriek for me to save!
The bosom, from whose fount thy lips
The nectar drew of bliss below,
May moulder in the soul's eclipse,
And leave thee to thy friendless woe.
Wild flowers may bloom above my grave,
And sigh in every night breeze, Death,
When thou shalt shriek for me to save!
The bosom, from whose fount thy lips
The nectar drew of bliss below,
May moulder in the soul's eclipse,
And leave thee to thy friendless woe.
E'en in the dawn of Time, thy heart
Hath felt bereavement's chill and blight;
For thou hast seen the soul depart
That would have clothed thy path with light;
And now, my beautiful—my blest!
Where on earth's desert wilt thou find
A guide—a friend—a home of rest
For the bruised heart and troubled mind!
Hath felt bereavement's chill and blight;
For thou hast seen the soul depart
That would have clothed thy path with light;
And now, my beautiful—my blest!
Where on earth's desert wilt thou find
A guide—a friend—a home of rest
For the bruised heart and troubled mind!
Dark wiles and snares and sorceries
Will spread beneath thy feet, and stain
Thy spirit with their glittering lies,
Till phantom bliss doth end in pain;
And thou must feel, and fear, and hide
The doubts that gloom, the pangs that gnaw,
And o'er a wreck'd heart wear the pride,
That by its gloom doth guilt o'erawe.
Will spread beneath thy feet, and stain
Thy spirit with their glittering lies,
Till phantom bliss doth end in pain;
And thou must feel, and fear, and hide
The doubts that gloom, the pangs that gnaw,
And o'er a wreck'd heart wear the pride,
That by its gloom doth guilt o'erawe.
Yet dread not thou, my Genevieve!
The ills, allowed, allotted here—
Nor waste thy soul in thoughts that grieve—
The trembling sigh, the burning tear!
Mind builds its empire on the waste,
And virtue triumphs in despair—
The guiltless woe of being past
Is future glory's deathless heir.
The ills, allowed, allotted here—
Nor waste thy soul in thoughts that grieve—
The trembling sigh, the burning tear!
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And virtue triumphs in despair—
The guiltless woe of being past
Is future glory's deathless heir.
Beware the soil of thoughts profane,
The fluent speech of skill'd design,
Passion that ends in nameless pain,
And fiction drawn from fashion's mine!
He, who so wildly shadows out
The darkest passions of our sin,
Draws the dark bane, he strews about,
From the deep fount of guilt within.
The fluent speech of skill'd design,
Passion that ends in nameless pain,
And fiction drawn from fashion's mine!
He, who so wildly shadows out
The darkest passions of our sin,
Draws the dark bane, he strews about,
From the deep fount of guilt within.
The Anointed keep thee, sinless child!
Be on thy path the Paraclete!
Through dreary wold and desert wild
The Giver guide thy little feet!
Like buds that bloom as blown flowers fall,
New hopes wave o'er thee angel pinions,
Till thou with them who loved thee—all—
Blend round the smile of God in glory's high dominions.
Be on thy path the Paraclete!
Through dreary wold and desert wild
The Giver guide thy little feet!
Like buds that bloom as blown flowers fall,
New hopes wave o'er thee angel pinions,
Till thou with them who loved thee—all—
Blend round the smile of God in glory's high dominions.
| The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield | |