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187
THE EMIGRANT'S BRIDE.
“From the home of childhood's glee,
From the days of laughter free,
From the love of many years,
Thou art gone to cares and fears;
To another path and guide,
To a bosom, yet untried!
Bright one! oh! there well may be
Trembling midst our joy for thee!”
The Bridal Day.
From the days of laughter free,
From the love of many years,
Thou art gone to cares and fears;
To another path and guide,
To a bosom, yet untried!
Bright one! oh! there well may be
Trembling midst our joy for thee!”
The Bridal Day.
She is going!
Gaze thy last on that sweet face, fond mother,
Soon will distance make love's yearning vain;
Press thy quivering lip to her's young brother,
Thou wilt never feel its thrill again.
Other ties, and other hopes have won her,
From the love that lit her earlier day;
Let your blessing, sad ones, rest upon her,
She will need it in her onward way.
Care will soon weigh down her spirit's lightness,
And her hours of happy calm be few;
Soon those eyes will lose their wonted brightness,
And that fair, soft cheek, its healthful hue.
Sickness, strife, each varying ill attendeth,
Wheresoe'er the alien's footsteps range;
Pure indeed must be the love that lendeth
Strength to brave so perilous a change.
Gaze thy last on that sweet face, fond mother,
Soon will distance make love's yearning vain;
Press thy quivering lip to her's young brother,
Thou wilt never feel its thrill again.
188
From the love that lit her earlier day;
Let your blessing, sad ones, rest upon her,
She will need it in her onward way.
Care will soon weigh down her spirit's lightness,
And her hours of happy calm be few;
Soon those eyes will lose their wonted brightness,
And that fair, soft cheek, its healthful hue.
Sickness, strife, each varying ill attendeth,
Wheresoe'er the alien's footsteps range;
Pure indeed must be the love that lendeth
Strength to brave so perilous a change.
She is going!
Sadly, weepingly, she gazes round her,
Wild her glances—wandering to and fro;
With its thousand links, the chain hath bound her
Of sweet memories, foster'd long ago.
Though resolv'd, she finds it hard to sever
From the endearing charities of home,
To exchange her childhood's scenes for ever,
For stern exile o'er the ocean's foam.
Must those sorrowing friends no more behold her?
Can it be, that hope indeed is vain?
Yes! their circling arms will ne'er enfold her
In their fond and fervent clasp again.
At that mournful consciousness she starteth,
With emotions, words are vain to tell;
Love still leads her on, yet love imparteth
Bitterest anguish to her last farewell.
Sadly, weepingly, she gazes round her,
Wild her glances—wandering to and fro;
With its thousand links, the chain hath bound her
Of sweet memories, foster'd long ago.
Though resolv'd, she finds it hard to sever
From the endearing charities of home,
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For stern exile o'er the ocean's foam.
Must those sorrowing friends no more behold her?
Can it be, that hope indeed is vain?
Yes! their circling arms will ne'er enfold her
In their fond and fervent clasp again.
At that mournful consciousness she starteth,
With emotions, words are vain to tell;
Love still leads her on, yet love imparteth
Bitterest anguish to her last farewell.
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