Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thanks, Marion, for thy sojourn brief
In this our English home;
Source, as it is, of present grief,
But joy for years to come;
Of grief, that we must part to-day,
Of joy, that thou, when far away
Beyond the ocean foam,
Wilt leave, on mine and Margaret's heart,
An image fair of what thou art.

II

To her, or ere thy face we knew,
A cherish'd dream wast thou;
The tints her fancy o'er it threw
Have scarcely faded now:
But fancy's touch hath slender skill
The heart's desiring void to fill,
Or airy shapes endow
Of the unseen we pant to see,
With life and warm reality.

III

Hadst thou been coarse of form and mien,
Or base of mind and heart,

323

Small comfort it perchance had been
To know thee as thou art.
Then she and I might both have grieved
That our own visions, half believed,
For ever must depart
Before one disenchanting glance
Of thy long look'd for countenance.

IV

But we have seen thee;—seen the mind
That lights thy full, dark eye;
Enjoy'd thy feelings warm and kind,
Thy spirit clear and high;
Have follow'd thee through thought's wide range,
With many a cordial interchange
Of mutual sympathy;
And seen thee tread the paths of life,
The friend, the mother, and the wife.

V

Henceforth there dwells in either heart
A form of flesh and blood,
Not shaped by fancy's treacherous art,
But known and understood:
No frail creation of the thought,
From frail materials feebly wrought,
In some fantastic mood;
But one whose real traits express
Distinct and breathing loveliness.

VI

Thanks for thy visit; thanks for all
Which thou wilt leave behind;
The light that on our hearts will fall
From thy reflected mind;

324

The frank good will, the generous love,
The frequent thought on things above,
The speech sincere, but kind,
The humour gay, the sportive mirth,
The laugh that gladdens home and hearth.

VII

Thanks for all these:—we know not how
Their worth is prized elsewhere;
But here our grateful hearts avow
That thou art good and fair.
And here thy memory still shall dwell,
A pleasant thought, a soothing spell
To blunt the stings of care;
Thy substitute, when thou art gone,
For friendly thought to rest upon.

VIII

And thou—when thou once more shalt see
Thy home in hot Bengal,
Shall no remembrance cleave to thee
Of us, of ours, of all
The friends whom here we love so well,
The quiet haunts in which we dwell,
The interests, great and small,
The tranquil pleasures, cares and ways
Which fill the English pastor's days?

IX

Take with thee, Marion, thoughts like these
To cheer thy Indian home,
And give thy burthen'd spirit ease
When grief and care shall come.
Go, tell our friends, who linger there,
Our fields are pleasant as they were
Ere they began to roam;

325

Tell them that, come when come they will,
They'll find our hearts unalter'd still.

X

Nor worthless, nor by them unfelt
Such words from us will be;
Nor slow, perchance, their hearts to melt
When they shall speak with thee
Still fresh from calm familiar talk,
From fireside laugh and evening walk
With my sweet wife and me;
Thy voice a breeze from happier climes,
Breathing old thoughts, old joys, old times.

XI

There's one who soothed us here erewhile
In days of care and pain,
With the sweet sunshine of her smile—
Our own beloved Jane.
Her gentle heart 'twill surely stir,
To think that here thou'st roam'd like her,
And lain where she hath lain;
Hast track'd the paths her footsteps press'd,
And shared, like her, our household rest.

XII

High intercourse methinks should be
Between her soul and thine,
And store of mutual sympathy
In thoughts and cares divine.
With open heart and serious speech
May ye take council, each with each,
From Truth's exhaustless mine
Extracting treasures richer far
Than those of eastern monarchs are.

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XIII

We know not if in after years
We e'er may meet again;
Nor whether, then, in smiles or tears,
In pleasure or in pain:
But this we know, that whatsoe'er
The burthen each may have to bear,
'Twill not be borne in vain,
If so our sever'd souls may be
Prepared for immortality.

XIV

Farewell! mayst thou, in yon dark land,
Thy hard course shape aright,
And shed o'er that fraternal band
Thy spirit's inner light;
Stern duty's arduous course pursue,
Thy human will, thyself subdue
By faith's all-conquering might;
And meet us, when life's toil is done,
The good fight fought, the victory won.