 | The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury |  |
176
LINES
ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND ON HER DEPARTURE FOR ENGLAND.
Afar, afar o'er the dark blue tide,
To a distant home thou art borne, fair bride;
We miss thy voice 'mid the tones of mirth
That waken around our cheerful hearth;
There's a void in our social circle now,
We have lost the smile of thy sunny brow;
Thou art gone from us, and we vainly sigh
For the pleasant light of thy loving eye.
To a distant home thou art borne, fair bride;
We miss thy voice 'mid the tones of mirth
That waken around our cheerful hearth;
There's a void in our social circle now,
We have lost the smile of thy sunny brow;
Thou art gone from us, and we vainly sigh
For the pleasant light of thy loving eye.
Thou art gone from us, on the mighty sea,
Where the billows are rolling all tameless and free,
Thou art gazing now with unquailing eye
And unblenching cheek, for thy lover is nigh:
E'en the quickened pulses of fear are stilled
When with deep devotion the heart is filled;
And this has nerved thee, fair bride, to part
From the matchless love of a mother's heart.
Where the billows are rolling all tameless and free,
Thou art gazing now with unquailing eye
And unblenching cheek, for thy lover is nigh:
E'en the quickened pulses of fear are stilled
When with deep devotion the heart is filled;
And this has nerved thee, fair bride, to part
From the matchless love of a mother's heart.
A father with quivering lip may press
On thy snowy forehead his fond caress;
A brother in sadness may say farewell
To the gentle being long loved so well;
And a sister's eye may be dimmed with tears
To lose the friend of her early years;
Yet time will the course of their feelings stem,
But a mother's feelings!—O, search not them.
On thy snowy forehead his fond caress;
A brother in sadness may say farewell
To the gentle being long loved so well;
And a sister's eye may be dimmed with tears
To lose the friend of her early years;
Yet time will the course of their feelings stem,
But a mother's feelings!—O, search not them.
177
Thou art gone from us, and though love will keep
His vigils o'er thee, we yet must weep:
We know that a blissful lot is thine,
Yet bereft of thy presence our hearts must pine.
Farewell, beloved one; when far away
Through England's green valleys thy footsteps stray,
O, think of the friends who are praying for thee,
In thy native home o'er the dark blue sea.
His vigils o'er thee, we yet must weep:
We know that a blissful lot is thine,
Yet bereft of thy presence our hearts must pine.
Farewell, beloved one; when far away
Through England's green valleys thy footsteps stray,
O, think of the friends who are praying for thee,
In thy native home o'er the dark blue sea.
| The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | |