 | Poems by Mrs. Opie |  |
39
ANOTHER ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
Hence! cruel Life! nor more persist
To warm this sad, this broken heart!
When Henry's claycold lips I kissed,
How welcome, Death! had been thy dart!
To warm this sad, this broken heart!
When Henry's claycold lips I kissed,
How welcome, Death! had been thy dart!
Speechless, they say, benumbed I seemed
While his last precious breath I caught;
No tears to sooth my sorrow streamed,
And agony suspended thought.
While his last precious breath I caught;
No tears to sooth my sorrow streamed,
And agony suspended thought.
40
They tell me thunders rent the air,....
That vivid lightnings flashed around;....
But I beheld no lightning's glare,
Nor heard the pealing thunder sound.
That vivid lightnings flashed around;....
But I beheld no lightning's glare,
Nor heard the pealing thunder sound.
They tell me that my helpless child
I from my arms with fury tossed;....
It might be so,....for I was wild,....
The mother in the wife was lost.
I from my arms with fury tossed;....
It might be so,....for I was wild,....
The mother in the wife was lost.
They tell me, on the unconscious corse
At length bereft of sense I fell;....
Ah! blessed state! of balm the source!
It closed my ears to Henry's knell.
At length bereft of sense I fell;....
Ah! blessed state! of balm the source!
It closed my ears to Henry's knell.
41
But, happy state resembling death,
Why is your balmy stupor flown?
O why restore her languid breath
Who now can only live to moan?
Why is your balmy stupor flown?
O why restore her languid breath
Who now can only live to moan?
E'en Reason says I justly weep,
And, ah! she says I weep in vain;
My midnight couch with tears I steep,
Then rise at morn....to weep again.
And, ah! she says I weep in vain;
My midnight couch with tears I steep,
Then rise at morn....to weep again.
When to my heart my child I fold,
She only deepens every sigh;
I think, while I her charms behold,
How she'd have pleased her father's eye.
She only deepens every sigh;
I think, while I her charms behold,
How she'd have pleased her father's eye.
42
And while I from her lisping tongue
Soft childhood's artless accents hear,
I think, with vain remembrance wrung,
How she'd have charmed her father's ear.
Soft childhood's artless accents hear,
I think, with vain remembrance wrung,
How she'd have charmed her father's ear.
I think......but O forbear, fond heart!
From vain regrets to duties turn;....
Yes,....I will act a parent's part,....
I'll tear myself from Henry's urn.
From vain regrets to duties turn;....
Yes,....I will act a parent's part,....
I'll tear myself from Henry's urn.
In life I still one charm can see,....
One flower adorns that dreary wild,....
That flower for care depends on me....
O precious charge!....'Tis Henry's child.
One flower adorns that dreary wild,....
That flower for care depends on me....
O precious charge!....'Tis Henry's child.
| Poems by Mrs. Opie | |