 | Judith, Esther, and other poems |  |
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.
And art thou then so soft and meek,
And I the cause of all that woe?—
Poor Mary, how o'er either cheek
The gushing rivulet did flow!
And I the cause of all that woe?—
Poor Mary, how o'er either cheek
The gushing rivulet did flow!
79
Yet, had I known thee as thou art,
By word, or deed, or look of mine,
For worlds, I had not caused to smart
That unoffending heart of thine.
By word, or deed, or look of mine,
For worlds, I had not caused to smart
That unoffending heart of thine.
For cruel is thy lot, poor maid,
Its duties rough, for such as thou—
And soon the glimmering beams must fade,
That sometimes come to cheer thee now.
Its duties rough, for such as thou—
And soon the glimmering beams must fade,
That sometimes come to cheer thee now.
Ev'n dimpled youth, Hope's dearest care
Scatter for thee few blossoms may;
And heaven forsake whoe'er would tear
With ruthless hand one leaf away.
Scatter for thee few blossoms may;
And heaven forsake whoe'er would tear
With ruthless hand one leaf away.
Beauty entwines thy brow, and love
Would hold o'er thee a full control—
The darting blush—the nerves that move
That quivering lip, declare the whole.
Would hold o'er thee a full control—
The darting blush—the nerves that move
That quivering lip, declare the whole.
And doomed the stern reproof to bear—
Should some fell sinner ply his art,
While yet a recent wound is there,
Where, Mary, where might stray thy heart?—
Should some fell sinner ply his art,
While yet a recent wound is there,
Where, Mary, where might stray thy heart?—
No pitying thought for thee on earth—
But oh! would he in heaven despise?
A lowly maiden gave him birth,
A trembling bosom hushed his cries—
But oh! would he in heaven despise?
A lowly maiden gave him birth,
A trembling bosom hushed his cries—
80
Defenceless one, a thistle-field
Who'rt doomed to cross in cobweb vest,
No! he will be thy timely shield,
Or take thee bleeding to his breast.
Who'rt doomed to cross in cobweb vest,
No! he will be thy timely shield,
Or take thee bleeding to his breast.
| Judith, Esther, and other poems | |