Judith, Esther, and other poems

Brooks, Maria Gowen (1794 or 5-1845)

[section]

TO ONE, who had taken laudanum to enliven himself.

HYMN.

MONODY on --- --- lately killed in a duel.

TO --- ---

ADOLPHUS.

STANZAS.

Song of an Indian Mother.

TO Dr. --- ---,

On hearing the praises of Charlotte, the fair departed daughter of Philenia.

Written after passing an evening with E. W. R. A*******, Esq. who has the finest person I ever saw.

On visiting, after an interval of nine years, the beautiful beach which skirts the village of Chelsea.

STANZAS.

TO --- ---.

TO Mrs. --- ---, my beloved and venerated friend.

Written in the pocket-book of Mrs. --- the evening before her departure.

To Mrs. ---, my beloved and venerated friend.

STANZAS.

From the French of C. A. Demoustier.

TO ---

The subject of the following is poor, and condemned to toil for her support; but Nature certainly meant otherwise: seldom, in any station, are seen such beauty and feeling.

THE SQUIRREL.

Written on the margin of the little river St. Charles.

“'TIS MIDNIGHT.”

ROSETTE.

[SONG. The sad sable robe evermore shall adorn me]

[SONG. I wish that all my heart has told]

[SONG. I have no need to ask thee why]

[SONG. How bright those eyes of deepest blue]

[SONG. My own Maria! dearest maid]

[SONG. 'Tis in vain thy hand hath crowned me]

[SONG. When thou see'st the river brighten]

To --- --- enclosing a lock of hair.

TO --- ---.

STANZAS.

ERROL'S DREAM.

On hearing of the death of a beautiful child.

HYMN.

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STANZAS.

Light lover of each glowing flower
That smiles amid the morning dew,
Go leave me lonely in my bower,
Almora still will live for you.

Be thou the graceful butterfly,
That flutters o'er yon gay parterre,
The changeless amarantha, I
Will wait for thy returning there.

Yes, I will wait, from morn till night,
And only blame my powerless charms
And wish I were the blossom bright
That lures thee from my tender arms.

Yet, sometimes, let soft pleasure's spell
Yield to a friendly thought—Oh! yes,
Sometimes return to me, and tell
How perfect is thy happiness.

In the magnolia's bosom deep
Come tell me how thou wert carest;
Return—thou shalt not see me weep—
All fragrant from the rose's breast.

Recount thy pleasures o'er and o'er;
Not one unkind reproach shall blend,
Or jealous sigh, I'll claim no more—
Too happy still, to be thy friend.

And when the summer's almost past,
And all its madd'ning joys are flown,
And, past its genial warmth, the blast
Around thy wings begins to moan.

Perchance, amid the garden's gloom
Thou'lt see me pensive but unchanged,
And learn to love my lasting bloom
And wish that thou hadst never ranged.

University of Virginia Library

STANZAS.