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Jonathan Huntington Bright
I sit within the room where thou once sat,When half my age, a curly headed boy;
And live beneath the roof where thou once lived,
And spent life's early hours in peace and joy.
Here by the cheerful hearth and plenteous board,
Thou hast known a father's care, a mother's love;
Here was thy soul trained up to know its God,
And taught to prize the Wisdom from above.
And here the School, where many a livelong day
Thou hast pondered o'er the lesson hard and long;
And here the fields, the river, and the hills
That first inspired thee with the love of song.
Methinks I see thee with thy many mates
Upon yon sandy bank in healthful play,
Or bathing in the river's cooling tide,
Or hastening homeward at the close of day.
Methinks I see thee in the pastures wild,
Seeking the ripening berries far and near;
Breaking through bushy swamps, or on the hill;
Almost thy voice at times I seem to hear;
But thou are dead! Fair Salem's earliest bard!
Scarce half accomplished was man's life by thee!
Where rolls the Mississippi's mighty flood
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Though known to few thy name, and few thy song,
Of all that now within thy city dwell;
Like thee, a “Traveller” through earth's passing scenes,
Fain would I of thy worth and wanderings tell.
Fain would I plant with laurel famed thy grave,
Where thou reposest from life's toilsome way;
Whose branches ever green, and towering head
Should mark thy rest to those who distant stray:
Still would I love as classic ground the spot,
Where passed in joy thy childhood's early hour;
The quiet roof, the field, the hill, the stream
Will from thy memory now have double power.
Poem No. 270; c. 19 January 1844
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