Miscellaneous Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Sorrow hath been companion of thy life,
E'en from the morn thou left thy native vale,
Left to return not.—Sorrow, and inward strife,—
Leaning on him who told too well his tale
Of flattering love.—“Oh! be thou only mine,
I know no life but in that heart of thine!

“I breathe, I live for thee!”—The voice was heard,
Heard through the woodbine casement ere it clos'd;
Alas! no friendly sound the silence stirr'd
Where they, who bless'd thee in their prayer, repos'd.
“Oh! haste! for Love,” it cried, “brooks no delay;
These arms await to fold thee,—haste away.”

Tears speak the rest.—The tears of love betray'd,
And guileless innocence, and memory still
Wakening from depths of her mysterious shade
In that poor heart the images of ill;
Regret,—remorse,—and many a wish in vain,—
“Oh! give me back my russet weeds again.”

A grief there is, the human heart can know,
Forlorn, and dark, and hopeless as the grave;
Ask of the Earth,—“Oh! give relief from woe
Too great to bear!”—it has no power to save.
But there's a voice for those, who, like to thee,
Poor and forsaken, cries—“Return to me.”

Not comfortless, but rear'd with tender hand
And looks of gentle love, the while, with tears
Watering the ground beneath, are they who stand
Submissive, yet in trust, amid their fears
Of Him, who well they know, the meek of heart
Has bless'd, and chosen to himself apart.

Then Time, the friend of all, shall come to thee,
With sweet oblivion of each sorrow past;
Bidding the timid heart again be free,
By injury and fear long overcast.
Or if some pensive thoughts at times will stray,
Like those soft clouds that wander west away,

Then counsel, and restraint, the friends of youth,
And patience ever working good through ill,
Be covenants of thy new-born faith and truth,
And meek submission to the Heavenly will:
Till, worldly passion spent, and sorrows wild,
Sweet peace restor'd be thine, and consolation mild.

A second morning on thy life shall bloom,
And flowers be round thy path; and thou shalt share,
Beneath thy native roof, and that dear room
Shaded with roses, all a mother's care,
Watching thy wasted cheek,—and she shall bless
Her lost one late restor'd, with many a fond caress.

A sister's hand thy evening couch shall spread,
And thou shalt hear the songs of other years
Sound, like the pensive voices of the dead,
That faintly speak of long-departed fears;
While that sweet orphan child shall creep to thee,
“Feed me, as thou wert wont, with kisses on thy knee.”

Come, then, forgetful of each former pain,
From these dark shades of grief and misery fly;
Come, with each fresh-awaken'd hope again,
As the blue morning brightens in the sky,
See, thy lov'd vale awaits thee!—Thou shalt rest
Within a father's arms,—upon a mother's breast.

For thee, for thee, their supplicating hands
They lift aloft, and weary Heaven with prayer,
And say, “Beside the eternal portal stands
A trembling and repentant sinner there.”
And lo! the gates of mercy open wide
To all, but unto man's rebellious pride.

Then shalt thou live, as by a second birth,
Again in virgin modesty of thought;
In dignity, and conscious of thy worth,
Retiring,—loveliest once again,—and sought
Mid nuptial blisses to that bow'r which Love
Emblem on Earth has made of purer joys above!

But see how soft e'en now the roseate cloud
Of evening smiles upon the dewy vale;
Oh! linger not!—for they who love thee, bow'd
With age, are list'ning for thy footsteps.—“Hail!
Hail! to our lov'd, our lost,”—in tears they cry,
“Come to these trembling arms, and bless us ere we die.”