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 VAEIOUS SUBJECTS. 
 
 BY EMMA GARRISON 
 
 -3" 
 
 "Away with sameness, let us gaily range 
 Where novelties delight at every change, 
 For innocent variety bestows 
 The sweetest salvos for terrestrial woes." 
 
 13 A L T I IVrO^ E : _ 
 
 PRINTED BY SHERWOOD & CO. 
 
 N. W. CORNER BALTIMORE AND GAY STREETS. 
 
 1855. 
 
7^ 113^ 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by 
 
 EMMA GAEKISON, 
 
 In the Clerk's OfEce of the District Court of the United States, for the 
 District of Maryland. 
 
 SiiEuwooD & Co., Printers, 
 
 BAIiTIMOKE. 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 I KNOW not that the gay world will list to strains 
 coming forth from a child of loneliness, denied the 
 advantages of wealth, and unaided by the claims of 
 lineage. I know not that it will even tolerate my 
 humhle songs, amid the wild bursts of poetic melody 
 breathed out from the inspired harp-strings of the 
 children of genius. And yet I would beg its kind 
 indulgence for sending forth my little ''Book" to 
 seek its fortune on the waves of chance. 
 
 Not as a competitor for fame do I take my stand in 
 the arena of the literary world. Ah no ! I would not 
 presume to hope that my humble strains will ever win 
 one laurel from the wreath of glory. And yet it may 
 be, if I had drank from wisdom's fount the inspiring 
 waters, — had listened to the thrilling eloquence of an- 
 cient lore, — if I had trod the halls of other lands, gazed 
 on their artist scenes, heard the deep rolling of their 
 mighty waters, — even my lyre would wake to numbers 
 suited to the ear of taste and song. 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 But, alas ! Fortune has strewn her gifts along my 
 pathway with a sparing hand. The rich waters of 
 knowledge have only touched my lips, to make my 
 thirsting spirit long more ardently for their life-giving 
 sweetness. The wild music of ancient melody has 
 passed over my ravished soul like whispered numbers 
 in a fairy dream. Solitary and alone, my days have 
 gone by — the ' ' Book of Nature " has been my chief 
 study. 
 
 And I would most earnestly entreat the kind in- 
 dulgence of my readers. Scan not with a critic's 
 eye my simple strains. Pass lightly over their imper- 
 fections. Heed them as the breathings of a spirit 
 which, while it cannot control all those deep and wild 
 emotions which sweep over the soul and make it thrill 
 with glorious melody, has been denied all those ac- 
 complishments which refine and cultivate the mind, 
 and mould the thoughts into forms of light and love- 
 liness. 
 
 Should fortune favor this, my first attempt, the 
 productions of leisure hours, — should my friends 
 kindly receive my simple efibrt, — many golden dreams 
 of the future will be realized, and I shall be enabled 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Vll 
 
 to quencli the burning thirst that fills my soul with 
 the rich waters that gush from learning's crystal foun- 
 tain. 
 
 Again requesting the critical reader's indulgence, 
 I commit my little book to the kind regards of the 
 public, and patiently await their decision. 
 
 THE AUTHOKESS. 
 
 Glover Hill, August, 1855. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Spirit of Poesy 13 
 
 Gentle Words 15 
 
 "We are Passing away 1*7 
 
 The Flowers 19 
 
 FriendshiiJ 21 
 
 Remember Me 22 
 
 Song 24 
 
 The By-Gone Year 26 
 
 The Hope of Heaven 21 
 
 Stanzas 29 
 
 Light behind the Cloud 31 
 
 When I would Die 32 
 
 Solitude o 33 
 
 The Warrior 34 
 
 Retrospection 40 
 
 Touch not the Glass 41 
 
 The Four Seasons 43 
 
 Constancy 50 
 
 The Indian's Death Song 55 
 
 Home 58 
 
 The Sailor Boy's Dream 64 
 
 To Willie Gl 
 
 Why I weep 11 
 
 Wild Flowers "73 
 
 The Widow's Lament V5 
 
 Stanzas 19 
 
 Lines to A*-** 80 
 
 Meta's Bridal 82 
 
 The Lover's Request 89 
 
X . INDEX. 
 
 Written on giving back a Ring 91 
 
 First Love 92 
 
 Cliildhood 93 
 
 A Dream 95 
 
 Why should true hearts weep? 100 
 
 Stanzas 101 
 
 I Love the Country 103 
 
 To one who asked why my brow was clouded 105 
 
 The Shipwreck 107 
 
 A Fragment 113 
 
 Death 118 
 
 To V^' * * * * * 121 
 
 A Dirge to the Old Year 122 
 
 The New Year 123 
 
 On Visiting the Potomac 126 
 
 Lines to an AbsentFriend 128 
 
 Sleep 130 
 
 My Native Land 132 
 
 The Hunter of the Hills 134 
 
 My Grandmother's Cot 138 
 
 To a Friend 142 
 
 The Forsaken 143 
 
 Can Friends Forget 145 
 
 My Lost Flower 146 
 
 The Moonlight Rainbow 149 
 
 Remembrance 151 
 
 Careless Words 152 
 
 The Warrior's Joys 153 
 
 Happiness 155 
 
 The Autumn Bird's Song 151 
 
 The Pleasures of Memory 159 
 
 Hope 162 
 
 A Sketch 180 
 
 Rest in Heaven 190 
 
INDEX. XI 
 
 Lines on reading "Matilda's Poems" 193 
 
 Song of the Thunder King 195 
 
 When I feel alone 196 
 
 An Evening Ramble 198 
 
 We have been Friends together 203 
 
 The Missionary 204 
 
 Deal gently with your Preacher's Heart 213 
 
 I want to go Home 215 
 
 The Sacrifice of the Beautiful 218 
 
 Lines to Kate 224 
 
 Lines to the Whippoorwill 228 
 
 Oh why should I be sad 230 
 
 The Infant's Dream 231 
 
 A Hymn 236 
 
 God forsakes the righteous never 236 
 
 Address to an old Beech Tree 238 
 
 Blighted Flowers 242 
 
 The Inquiry 245 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 B 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF POESY. 
 
 Where, where doth the Spirit of Poesy reign ? 
 
 In the city's busy walls, 
 Does she brood o'er the thronging multitude, 
 
 As they press through the crowded halls ? 
 No ! not with that noisy, bustling train 
 Doth the gentle spirit of poesy reign. 
 
 Does she dwell in the ball-room's mazy round, 
 Where beauty's bright eyes glance, 
 
 And young hearts throb with wild'ring joy 
 As they glide through the flying dance ? 
 
 No ! not with that wild and thoughtless train 
 
 Doth the gentle spirit of poesy reign. 
 
 Does she dwell in the student's chamber lone, 
 
 'Mid the volumes of ancient lore, 
 As with throbbing brow and weary eye 
 
 He is poring their pages o'er ? 
 No ! not in his dim and shadowy cell 
 Doth the gentle spirit of poesy dwell. 
 
14 BEIEF POEMS. 
 
 She dwells 'mid the wildwood's green retreats, 
 With the early flowers of spring, 
 
 Where the streamlets gambol in bubbling glee, 
 And the bright-winged birdlings sing ; 
 
 In the leafy bowers, o'er the flowery plains, 
 
 The gentle spirit of poesy reigns. 
 
 She soars on the wings of the roaring blast 
 As it sweeps through the autumn bowers, 
 
 And bears before it the faded leaves 
 And pale and blighted flowers ; 
 
 On the snow-capt mount, in the lonely dell, 
 
 Doth the spirit of poesy love to dwell. 
 
 She sits on the brow of the craggy peak 
 Which frowns o'er the cataract deep ; 
 
 Where the billows dance to the moaning winds, 
 And the angry waters leap ; 
 
 Where the tempest raves, and the waters swell, 
 
 Doth the spirit of poesy love to dwell. 
 
 She rides on the wings of the morning breeze. 
 As it wakens the sleeping flowers. 
 
 And shakes down the dew from the forest trees 
 In glistening, rainbow showers; 
 
 With the music wild, of her lute-like voice, 
 
 She makes the train of morn rejoice. 
 
 She reigns in evening's stilly hour 
 When bright stars gem the sky, 
 
BRIEF SOEMS. 15 
 
 When moonbeams dance over tree and flower 
 
 And zephyrs whisper by ; 
 Where the plaintive night-bird wakes her strains 
 The gentle spirit of poesy reigns. 
 
 Then seek her not in the crowded hall, 
 
 Nor the giddy throng of the young and gay ; 
 
 Nor yet in learning's classic halls ; 
 
 For with none of these she holds her sway, 
 
 But with nature's wild and beauteous train 
 
 Alone doth the spirit of poesy reign. 
 
 aENTLE WORDS. 
 
 Life has its hours of bitterness, 
 
 Its joys, its hopes and fears ; 
 Our way is sometimes wreathed with smiles, 
 
 And then baptized in tears. 
 
 But gentle words and loving smiles 
 
 Will cheer the darkest day. 
 And friendship's peerless rays will drive 
 
 The deepest gloom away. 
 
 The summer sun is beautiful. 
 The dew-drop bright and gay ; 
 
 And nature's fair and lovely things 
 Are strewn along our way. 
 
16 BKIEF^POEMS. 
 
 But gentle words of tenderness, 
 And smiles, we know are true, 
 
 Are warmer than the summer sun, 
 And brighter than the dew. 
 
 The wintry winds swept rudely o'er 
 
 A fair and fragile flower. 
 It bowed its lovely head to earth, 
 
 And withered in an hour. 
 
 The sun sent down his golden rays 
 
 Upon its petals fair. 
 It raised its drooping head from earth, 
 
 And bloomed all brightly there. 
 
 So on the crushed and bleeding heart, 
 Blighted by sorrow's power. 
 
 Fall gentle words and loving smiles 
 Like sunshine on the flower. 
 
 ;■ A loving smile, a friendly glance, 
 
 i A word in kindness spoken, 
 
 \ May win from sorrow's cheerless way^' 
 
 - The heart that would have broken. 
 
 # 
 Speak gentle words where'er you go ; 
 
 They dry the falling tears, 
 
 They soothe the widow's grief and woe, 
 
 And calm the orphan's fears. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 17 
 
 And in return, to cheer your heart, 
 
 To you they will be given ; 
 And when you go from earth you'll reap 
 
 A rich reward in heaven. 
 
 . WE ARE PASSINa AWAY. 
 
 When the first light of morning steals over the hills, 
 And the golden rays dance o'er the bright gushing rills, 
 When the jewel dew glistens on leaflets and flowers. 
 And the birds wake their matin lays in the green bowers, 
 We can read in the blush of the opening day, 
 We are passing away — we are passing away. 
 
 In the soft, stilly eve, when the long shadows rest 
 On the whispering trees, o'er the earth's verdant breast, 
 When behind the green hill-tops the sun bows his head, 
 And sinks to repose on his blue ocean bed. 
 We can read in the light of his last lingering ray. 
 We are passing away — we are passing away. 
 
 In the still hush of night, when the bright, silver moon 
 
 Sits like a pale bride on her star-spangled throne. 
 
 And smiles o'er the -landscape enshrouded in night, 
 
 Till the streams glitter sweetly, the woodlands grow 
 
 bright. 
 
 The winds, as they go on their whispering way. 
 
 Sigh back the sad strain. We are passing away. 
 B^ 
 
18 BKIEF POEMS. 
 
 In the radiant light of emerald spring, 
 
 When the wild flowers bloom and birdlings sing ; 
 
 When crowned with beauty, bright Flora reigns 
 
 And waves her scepter over the plains, 
 
 E'en then the sweetest flowers decay, 
 
 And their sere buds whisper, Passing away. 
 
 When the queen of autumn in sadness reigns, 
 And sounds her requiem over the plains ; 
 When the blooming flowers no more are seen, 
 And nature doffs her robes of green, 
 In the wreck of beauty, its sad decay, 
 We read more plainly. Passing away. 
 
 'Tis echoed back through the waving trees, 
 'Tis borne to the ear on the sighing breeze, 
 'Tis inscribed on the bright, blue, summer skies, 
 'Tis pictured in nature's glowing dyes ; 
 The murmuring stream, the birdling's lay. 
 Breathe forth the strain, We are passing away. 
 
 The friends we loved have gone before 
 
 And left us alone on this desolate shore ; 
 
 The cherished dreams of our youth have pass'd, 
 
 And shadows are over our pathway cast ; 
 
 Our life is as short as a wintry day — 
 
 We are passing away — we are passing away. 
 
 But we know that beyond old Jordan's tide 
 Is the land where the white-robed ones abide. 
 
BRIEFPOEMS. 19 
 
 Where loved ones meet no more to part, 
 Where sorrow and grief come not to the heart, 
 Where blooming flowers know no decay, 
 Where lovely things pass not away. 
 
 Oh, who would not leave this tear-laden sod 
 
 To dwell in the home of Israel's God, 
 
 To meet our loved ones above the sky 
 
 Where tear-drops are wiped from every eye ? 
 
 Koll quickly on, thou closing day — 
 
 From the sorrows of earth we would pass away. 
 
 THE FLOWERS. 
 
 The flowers, the bright young summer flowers, 
 
 Are fading all away. 
 And the verdure that decked the greenwood bowers 
 
 Is hastening to decay. 
 
 The birds, that sung in the bright spring-time, 
 
 No more in the grove are seen ; 
 They have flown to their home in the southern clime 
 
 Where the fields are ever green. 
 
 The streamlets that gamboled along the lea, 
 
 With a gentle murmuring sound, 
 Are dull and sluggish, and soon will be 
 
 By icy fetters bound. 
 
20 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Pale autumn is reigning o'er hill and dale 
 
 In sad and sombre array ; 
 And at early dawn we see the frost 
 
 That paves old winter's way. 
 
 'Tis a dreary time, but I love it well, 
 And my heart beats wild and free, 
 
 As I list to the sound of the rustling leaves 
 As they fall from the forest tree. 
 
 I love to go forth when the clamorous crow 
 
 Is winging his way on high, 
 When the noble lords of the forest bow, 
 
 And the blast goes sweeping by. 
 
 There's music wild in the rushing winds, 
 As they play through the leafless bowers, 
 
 And bear before them the yellow leaves, 
 And pale and blighted flowers. 
 
 'Tis true I love the gladsome spring, 
 With its air so soft and mild ; 
 
 I love to roam through its leafy woods 
 And gather its flow'rets wild. 
 
 But I love far more the yellow leaves 
 
 And the sad autumnal blast ; 
 They are emblems of life's faded joys, 
 
 And its hopes, too bright to* last. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 21 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Oh friendship ! cold must be the heart 
 
 Ungilded by thy smile, 
 Which softens sorrow's poignant dart, 
 
 And can each care beguile. 
 
 Oh sad and lone must be the breast 
 Which knows not thy sweet voice, 
 
 Which calms each troubled thought to rest 
 And makes the soul rejoice. 
 
 Thou art the rainbow in life's storm, 
 
 The beacon, kindly given. 
 To guide us through this land of gloom 
 
 Up to our home in heaven. 
 
 Oh, who can say thou'rt but a name, 
 
 A shade of fantasy ? 
 Who can thy wondrous charms disclaim, 
 
 Save false misanthropy? 
 
 Thy hand can dry the falling tear, 
 
 Thy voice can calm the soul. 
 When midnight clouds above us hang, 
 
 And angry billows roll. 
 
 Gray fashion's throng may madly seek 
 
 Their bliss in gilded toys, 
 Which e'en the slightest breath may break, 
 
 Lost to thy thrilling joys. 
 
22 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 But if I feel not thy sweet power 
 To cheer my lonely way, 
 
 My heart, like some neglected flower, 
 Will hasten to decay. 
 
 But, blest by thee, my spirit still 
 Its lot of grief shall bear, 
 
 And safely scale life's weary hill 
 While thou art my guiding star. 
 
 REMEMBER ME. ,/^ ^'^ 
 
 Remember me ! How sadly falls 
 
 That sound upon the ear ! 
 
 It fills the heart with memories sweet, 
 
 , And starts the bitter tear. 
 /^ 
 'Remember me ! No other strain 
 
 Can move the heart like this ; 
 'Twas breathed in sorrow's clouded night. 
 In love's bright morn of bliss. 
 
 Remember me ! Tears dim the eye, 
 
 The soul is deeply stirred, 
 For the same words are in the ear 
 
 That in past times were heard. 
 
 Remember me ! The last fond word 
 Breathed from the lips we love, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 23 
 
 Ere angels lured them by their songs 
 To join the hosts above. 
 
 Remember me ! When loved ones part 
 
 This is the farewell word ; 
 Soft mingling with love's low-breathed vows 
 
 The tender strain is heard. 
 
 Hands fondly clasp — a last embrace, 
 
 Fond hearts must parted be ; ^H 
 
 The wanderer, as he turns away, 
 
 Breathes, " Love, remember me." 
 
 Gro look the old mementoes o'er, 
 
 Types of your early hours ; 
 The ancient ring, the tress of hair,/ 
 \ Dim lines and faded flowers : / 
 
 Do not these relics of the past 
 
 In memory seem to be. 
 With whispered voices, breathing out 
 
 The words, " Remember me ? " 
 
 Go wander through the sacred haunts 
 Where childhood's hours went by ; 
 
 Sit by the little purling stream, 
 Gaze on the azure sky : 
 
 ' Do not the song of every bird. 
 And every whispering tree. 
 
24 BRIEFPOEMS. 
 
 The murmuring of the sunlit stream, 
 Bring back, " Remember me ?" 
 
 Remember me ! 'Tis warbled out 
 In childhood's laughing tone ; 
 
 In mournful strains it trembles out 
 From hearts all grieved and lone. 
 
 'Tis love's adieu, the golden tie, 
 The parting watchword given, 
 
 To draw our hearts away from earth 
 And centre them in heaven. 
 
 SONa. 
 
 The Christmas bells are ringing 
 O'er our land so broad and fair, 
 
 And gladsome songs of mirth and gleo 
 Float on the morning air. 
 
 The Christmas light is burning bright 
 
 In many a village pane, 
 And fairy feet are moving light 
 
 To the music's witching strain. 
 
 And far away o'er the snow-clad hills 
 The prancing steed is seen. 
 
 And the sleigh-bells tinkle merrily 
 In the fair moon's silvery beam. 
 
 2yJ 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 25 
 
 They bid me sing, thej bid me smile, 
 And they bid my heart be gay, 
 
 And join the merry dance and song. 
 To while the hours away. 
 
 But I steal away from the giddy throng, 
 
 To some lone and wild retreat. 
 Where the night winds sadly sigh along. 
 
 And the rushing waters leap. 
 
 And there I dream of my childhood hours, 
 And the joys of my early years, 
 
 When I slumbered in pleasure's rosy bowers. 
 Ere my eyes were dimfiied by tears. 
 
 I once was the gayest of the gay, 
 
 Of care I ne'er had heard ; 
 And my song was as wild and full of joy 
 
 As the notes of the mountain bird. 
 
 But grief came stealing o'er the flowers, 
 
 And bound me with its chain, 
 Threw a dark shadow o'er my hours, 
 
 And filled my heart with pain. 
 
 The young and gay are round me now, 
 Who kneel at pleasure's shrine ; 
 
 I love to see their young hearts glad, 
 But naught can gladden mine. 
 
26 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 THE BY-GONE YEAR. 
 
 Another year has rolled away 
 
 On time's resistless stream, 
 And all its bright imaginings 
 
 Have faded like a dream. 
 
 And many changes have been wrought 
 In the time so fleet and brief; 
 
 Many bright fancies have been cross'd. 
 And joys been turned to grief. 
 
 Where are the young and beautiful, 
 Whose hearts were glad and gay? 
 
 We see their vacant places now, 
 But where, oh ! where are they? 
 
 Go look upon their new-made graves, 
 
 Beneath the willow tree. 
 And ask the sadly sighing breeze 
 
 That wakes their memory. 
 
 Where are the bright and glittering hopes 
 Which shed their sunny beams ? 
 
 Where is the rainbow wreath of love — 
 Where are youth's sunny dreams? 
 
 Go ask the lone and cheerless heart, 
 Of the lapse of faded years, 
 
 Where did those golden dreams depart. 
 Which passed for grief and tears ? 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 27 
 
 But call them not ; the time has passed 
 When hope its sunlight shed ; 
 
 Brief did those golden dreams depart, 
 Till grief its dark pall spread. 
 
 Another year has passed away, 
 
 And on its ceaseless wings 
 Has borne the young, the glad, the gay, 
 
 And the heart's most treasured things. 
 
 But there's beyond this vale of tears 
 A land where comes no gloom, 
 
 And where the gently rolling year 
 Ne'er puts off its youthful bloom. 
 
 Roll on, ye years, pass quickly by, 
 
 And waft our souls above, 
 Where tears are wiped from every eye, 
 
 And all is joy and love. 
 
 THE HOPE OF HEAVEN 
 
 Oh ! what if when by grief oppressed, 
 When tear-drops dim the eye, 
 
 We had no hope within the breast 
 Of mansions in the sky ; 
 
 Oh ! what if all our hopes and fears 
 
 Were centred in this vale of tears, 
 
28 BRIEFPOEMS. 
 
 If, when the tempests howl around, 
 We saw no better world beyond ? 
 
 Oh ! what would ease the burdened heart, 
 What then could hope or comfort give, 
 
 Oh ! who could bear life's weary load. 
 Oh ! who could then endure to live ? 
 
 This earth would then be dark and drear, 
 Without one ray of light to cheer. 
 
 No sunbeam bright to break the gloom — 
 
 A lonely waste, a living tomb. 
 
 But bright and heavenly is the hope 
 By our divine religion given ; 
 
 It speaks of life beyond the grave. 
 It tells us of a home in heaven. 
 
 This earth is beautiful and bright, 
 All radiant with the heavenly light ; 
 
 Our hearts are filled with peace and love, 
 
 Beflected from our home above. 
 
 Oh blissful hope, inspiring thought ! 
 
 When sorrows weigh our spirits down, 
 We struggle on through every ill 
 
 In hope to win a glorious crown ; 
 'Tis this that bears our spirits up, 
 
 'Tis this that sweetens sorrow's cup, 
 The hope, when life's dull cords are riven, 
 The bright hope of a home in heaven. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 29 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 Oh ye who tread life's flow'ry paths, 
 Illumed by pleasure's golden rays, 
 
 Who feel not life's oppressive cares, 
 Who know not sorrow's dreary ways, 
 
 Turn not away with cold neglect 
 
 From those bowed down by griefs and fears ; 
 Whose joys have fled, whose hopes are not, 
 
 Whose weary eyes are dimmed by tears. 
 
 You mingle with the glad and gay, 
 
 And join their revelry and song. 
 And while the fleeting hours away, 
 
 'Mid pleasure's wild and giddy throng. 
 
 And can ye not one moment spare 
 
 To weep with those oppressed by grief. 
 
 And strive by gentle words to give 
 The weary spirit some relief? 
 
 Look on yon maiden's faded cheek ; 
 
 Her form is bowed, but not by years ; 
 Her voice has lost its gladsome tones ; 
 
 Her once bright eye is dimmed by tears. 
 
 For she has seen her joys decay 
 
 Like flo wers before the wintry blast ; 
 
 Has watched her young hopes fade away, 
 Which were too pure and bright to last. 
 
30 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Curl not thy ruby lips in scorn ; 
 
 Oh spare that glance of proud disdain ; 
 Thy hopes may fade in life's bright morn. 
 
 And never glad thy heart again. 
 
 And sorrow's dark and withering breath 
 May blight thy form so bright and fair ; 
 
 Thine eye may lose its lustrous light, 
 Thy lofty brow be dimmed by care, 
 
 Fyo seen the brow of beauty decked 
 
 With glittering gems and radiant pearls, 
 
 And love's warm light beamed from the eye. 
 And played amid the raven curls ; 
 
 But brighter far than all the pearls 
 Which in the ocean depths repose. 
 
 Are tears of sympathy which fall 
 On beauty's cheek for others' woes. 
 
 But let the unpitying world frown on. 
 
 And offer not their kind relief 
 To those whose hopes and joys have flown, 
 
 WTiose hearts are worn by care and grief: 
 
 There's One who'll soothe and calm their fears, 
 Who will his pitying aid bestow, 
 
 Who hears their sighs and counts their tears, 
 For Jmsus wept while here below. 
 
%' 
 
 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 LIGHT BEHIND THE CLOUD. 
 
 We journey tB rough a yale of tears ^ 
 
 Where all things pass away; 
 Our fondest hopes will soon take wing, 
 
 Our brightest joys decay ; 
 But though our pathway may be dark. 
 
 And grief our hearts enshroud, 
 Though wintry winds around us roar. 
 
 There's light behind the cloud, 
 
 Youth^s brightest visions fade away, 
 
 Its early dreams depart, 
 And time bears on his ceaseless wing 
 
 The idols of our heart ; 
 But although sorrow be our lot, 
 
 And cares around us crowd. 
 Though friends prove false and foes unite, 
 
 There's light behind the cloud. 
 
 The fairest rose must have a thorn, 
 
 Each joy be mixed with care ; 
 And there's no bliss we taste on earth 
 
 But grief usurps a share ; 
 But still, though shadows dark as night 
 
 Our dreary way enshroud, 
 Though not a cheering ray beam forth. 
 
 There's light behind the cloud. 
 
32 BRIEFPOEMS. 
 
 And could we look beyond the veil 
 Which now before us lies, 
 
 TVe'd see that all our crosses here 
 Are ' ' blessings in disguise ;" 
 
 For Grod who reigns above the sky- 
 Marks every secret tear, 
 
 And does not willingly afflict 
 Or grieve his children here. 
 
 Then let us still our way pursue, 
 "By faith and not by sight," 
 And grief will soon be lost in joy, 
 
 And darkness changed to light. 
 We soon shall leave this weary road 
 
 And dwell above the skies. 
 Where Grod shall wipe all tears away 
 
 For ever from our eyes. 
 
 / 
 
 / WHEN I WOULD DIE. 
 
 I would not die in winter. 
 
 When winds go wailing by, 
 When fields are brown and cheerless. 
 
 And snow-drifts veil the sky. 
 I would not lay me down to rest 
 With icy turf upon my breast ; 
 I would not have the tempest rave 
 In madness o'er my new-made grave. 
 
BRIEFPOEMS. 33 
 
 I would not die when spring buds 
 
 Are bursting bright and fair ; 
 When the rich perfume of wildwood jBowers 
 
 Floats on the balmy air. 
 When birdlings warble on every spray, 
 And streamlets dance to their music gay, 
 When nature smiles 'neatli the azure sky, 
 'Mid the birth of beauty, I would not die. 
 
 But in the lonely autumn time. 
 
 When spring's bright flowers fade. 
 And the yellow leaves fall mournfully 
 
 Amid the forest shade ; «- 
 
 When wild-birds hush their gladsome Song, 
 And sighing winds sweep sadly on ; 
 When nature looks with a tearful eye 
 On the wreck of beauty — then I would die. 
 
 SOLITUDE. 
 
 I love to roam through the pathless wood 
 And enjoy the sweets of solitude, 
 Where the cares of the world are all unknown 
 And the heart can find a quiet home. 
 
 I love not the ball-room's mazy round. 
 Nor the festal hall with its mirthful sound, 
 
34 BRIEPPOEMS. 
 
 Where the joyous chords ring again and again 
 With a swifter and yet a wilder strain. 
 
 The joys of earth will vanish away 
 Like dew-drops before the morning ray ; 
 And I have no ear for mirth and song, 
 No heart to mingle with pleasure's throng. 
 
 I love to go where the willow droops, 
 Where the lonely bird of evening whoops, 
 And list to the murmuring song of the breeze 
 As it mournfully sighs thro' the waving trees. 
 
 f 
 
 ' Oh ! solitude has a sweet relief 
 
 / For the heart that is stricken by care and grief ; 
 I It calms- the strife of the troubled breast, 
 
 s 
 
 1 And gives to the weary spirit rest. 
 
 THE WARRIOR. 
 
 The bright Aurora had undone 
 Her glittering gates of gold ; 
 
 The brilliant chariot of the sun 
 Just o'er the hills had rolled. 
 
 The vocal songsters of the grove 
 Had waked their matin strains, 
 
 And flow'rets reared their dewy heads 
 On Persia's laughing plains. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 35 
 
 The summer clouds, with fringe of gold, 
 
 Float o'er the silver lakes ; 
 And the music of the shepherd's pipe 
 
 The morning stillness breaks. 
 
 Where the rich acacia gently waves, 
 Where blooms the orange flower, 
 
 A lady bright and a warrior brave 
 Sit alone in a fragrant bower. 
 
 The clustering vines are above their heads, 
 And beneath their feet the roses, 
 
 And amid the leaves of silver sheen 
 The golden lime reposes. 
 
 But the lady's eye is dimmed by tears, 
 And her cheek has lost its bloom ; 
 
 And the lofty brow of the warrior brave 
 Is wreathed with a cloud of gloom. 
 
 For he is equipped for the battle-field, 
 
 His sword is at his side, 
 And he's going to leave, ere the west is dim, 
 
 His own affianced bride. 
 
 His noble steed is standing near, 
 
 All ready to bear him away, 
 Where the gallant troops undaunted stand 
 
 In danger's dark array. 
 
36 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Oh ! his was a bold and fearless soul, 
 And his proud eye never quailed ; 
 
 He trembled not at the cannon's roar, 
 Nor the clash of the battle-field. 
 
 But when he looked on that lady bright, 
 
 The love of his early years, 
 His fearless heart was filled with grief. 
 
 And his proud eye dimmed by tears. 
 
 They lingered there in that rosy bower 
 
 Till the day had waned away, 
 And the shadows of the evening hour 
 
 Fell over the landscape gay. 
 
 The warrior looked upon the sky, 
 'Twas heavenly, bright and fair ; 
 
 For the evening sun with roseate dye 
 Was setting in glory there. 
 
 He clasped her form to his throbbing breast, 
 Then mounting his gallant steed, 
 
 Was borne away from his native land 
 With fleet and bird-like speed. 
 
 The lady sat in her lonely bower 
 Till the stars above her burned. 
 
 Then knelt and prayed to Allah's throne 
 For her lover's safe return. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 37 
 
 The warrior reached the battle-field, 
 
 And joined the deadly fight ; 
 With unshrinking arm the lance he threw, 
 
 And wielded the sabre bright. 
 
 His foaming steed plunged madly on 
 Through the battle's hottest breath ; 
 
 And he led his dauntless followers through, 
 To victory or death. 
 
 The battle's gained, the victory won, 
 
 The fearful contest past ; 
 And shouts of triumph now are borne 
 
 On the wings of the sweeping blast- 
 But pale and wan the warrior lies 
 
 'Mid the dying and the dead ; 
 His lance has fallen from his hand. 
 
 His gallant steed has fled. 
 
 But he fell 'mid shouts of victory, 
 
 Just as the day was won, 
 With a smile of triumph on his lip 
 
 For the mighty work he'd done. 
 
 The tidings are borne to the lady fair, 
 As she kneels in her sylvan home. 
 
 With her heart uplifted in fervent prayer 
 For her warrior's safe retuj-n. 
 
 D 
 
38 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 With streaming eyes and pallid cheek 
 
 She seeks the bloody heath, 
 Where the noble warrior lowly lies 
 
 In the cold embrace of death. 
 
 With fearless step she bends her way, 
 'Mid the heaps of dead and dying ; 
 
 And where the slain are thickest strewn 
 A noble form is lying. 
 
 The moonbeams fall on his features pale. 
 Still calm and proud in death ; 
 
 Alas ! 'tis the form of her warrior brave 
 That lies on the bloody heath. 
 
 With a cry of grief she flew to his side. 
 And raised his lifeless head ; 
 
 She prest her brow to his once warm heart, 
 But alas ! 'twas cold and dead. 
 
 She crost his hands on his icy breast. 
 And combed his raven curls ; 
 
 Kissed off the dew from his marble brow. 
 Where it shone like glistening pearls. 
 
 Then laying her hand on his manly breast, 
 
 In that lone, stilly hour, 
 Her gentle spirit fled away, 
 
 To meet him in Allah's bower. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 39 
 
 And calmly on that dreadful scene 
 
 G-^he moonbeams gently played, 
 Where the warrior brave, and his lady bright, 
 
 In the sleep of death were laid. 
 
 They were borne away from that blood-stained spot, 
 
 By kind and gentle hands, 
 And laid to rest in a wide, deep grave 
 
 In their own bright, sunny land. 
 
 A lisping streamlet glides along, 
 
 And lovely flow'rets wave, 
 And silken zephyrs sadly sing 
 
 Around their new-made grave. 
 
 The rose-lipped maids of that sunny clime 
 
 Come forth at the evening hours, 
 And chant a song to their memory. 
 
 And strew their grave with flowers. 
 
 And the shepherd wakes his mellow reed 
 
 Beneath the silent shade, 
 Where the warrior brave and his lady bright 
 
 In the sleep of death are laid. 
 
40 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 RETROSPECTION. 
 
 The past, the past, the dreamy past, 
 
 Brought back by memory's magic power ; 
 
 Before me spreads the golden scenes, 
 Of childhood's pure and happy hour. 
 
 And then methinks I rove again 
 With those I loved in other years. 
 
 When my heart was light, and my hopes all bright, 
 Ere I knew that this world was full of tears. 
 
 I hasten then to clasp the hands 
 That never coldly met with mine ; 
 
 But oh ! 'tis a delusive spell ; 
 
 Oh, Fancy ! 'tis a dream of thine. 
 
 They all are gone, that happy band 
 
 With whom I roamed in life's young day ; 
 
 Some wander in a distant land, 
 
 Some ^neath the turf-mound calmly lay. 
 
 My teacher ! where, oh where is he ? 
 
 Missouri's troubled ^ream may tell ; 
 He sleeps far from his home away, 
 
 Where the rough billows rise and swell. 
 
 Of all that happy, gladsome band. 
 
 Who shared my joys in life's young day, 
 
 I, only I, in grief remain ; 
 
 The young, the gay, oh where are they? 
 
BRIEF P OEMS. 
 
 41 
 
 But though I sigh with fond regret 
 O'er those bright days for ever gone, 
 
 Friends just as true are with me yet 
 As those I loved in life's young morn. 
 
 But still there is a mystic spell 
 
 Thrown o'er the memories of the past, 
 
 Which ever round my heart will dwell 
 So long as its pulsations last. 
 
 Though joyless not the present day, 
 
 I love to muse on by-gone hours. 
 Ere care had dimmed my sunny brow, 
 
 When life seemed strewn with blooming flowers. 
 
 TOUCH NOT THE GLASS. 
 
 Touch not, touch not the fatal glass. 
 Though brightly glow the ruby wine ; 
 
 'Twill dim the lustre of thine eye, 
 And pale that roseate cheek of thine. 
 
 Oh dash it proudly from thy lip. 
 And scorn to be a fettered slave, 
 
 Brought down beneath its iron chains 
 To slumber in an early grave. 
 
 Beneath its brightly sparkling waves 
 A deadly poisonous serpent coils, 
 
 D^ 
 
42 BRIEF POEMS 
 
 S» 
 
 Which lures its fated victims on, 
 And triumphs o'er its many spoils. 
 
 Although 'tis luring to the eye, 
 
 And sweet and pleasant to the taste, 
 
 'Twill blight and crush thy noble heart. 
 Thy manly strength and beauty waste. 
 
 Go look within its waving flood, 
 And read the tales of sorrow there ; 
 
 The pallid cheeks, the broken hearts, 
 
 Hopes crushed and blighted, once so fair. 
 
 How many widowed hearts have bled. 
 How many golden cords been riven ! 
 
 How many starving orphans' cries 
 
 Have floated on the breeze to heaven I 
 
 And will ye still the liquid quaff, 
 And bind in chains youi' noble soul ; 
 
 Plunge deep into the dark abyss, 
 
 Till maddened passions spurn control ? 
 
 Oh burst the fetters while you may. 
 
 Ere 'tis eternally too late, 
 Ere you have passed the bounds of hope. 
 
 And sealed your dark and wretched fate. 
 
 Fly from the luring tempter, fly. 
 As from some dark and dreaded foe ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 43 
 
 It leads to misery and grief, 
 
 Destruction, sorrow, death and woe. 
 
 Then dash ! oh dash it from thy lips, 
 
 ''Touch not, taste not," thy watchwords be; 
 
 Burst the strong chains which bind thee now, 
 And from the luring tempter flee. 
 
 THE FOUR SEASONS. 
 SPRING. 
 Lo ! o'er the verdant earth and grassy plain 
 Fair spring now reigns with all her smiling train ; 
 The beauteous queen in robes of green is drest. 
 And on her brow bright, budding flow'rets rest. 
 
 Beneath her feet the dappled flowers bloom. 
 And gentle zephyrs waft a sweet perfume ; 
 Like silver ribbons o'er the verdant lawn 
 The bubbling streamlets gently glide along. 
 
 The playful lambs skip o'er the velvet ground, 
 As if they feel the joy that reigns around ; 
 From flower to flower now roves the housewife bee, 
 And hums her joy in drowsy melody. 
 
 The vocal linnet leaves his downy rest, 
 And tiptoe younglings chirp in every nest ; 
 Their merry songs keep time with laughing rills, 
 Which leap in gladness o'er the flow'ry hills. 
 
44 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 The hum of insects floats upon the breeze, 
 And bright green foliage decks the forest trees ; 
 The ever youthful sun profusely flings 
 His golden radiance o'er the bursting things. 
 
 The flocks are bleating o'er the verdant hills, 
 And nature's voice is heard in gushing rills ; 
 The morning sun shines thro' the waving pines. 
 And streaks the fleecy clouds with vein-like lines. 
 
 At quiet eve, soft floods of golden light 
 Fade from the west before the shades of night ; 
 And o'er the placid lake, and murmuring streams. 
 The bride of night pours down her silvery beams. 
 
 O'er all the earth the smiling empress reigns, 
 And waves her scepter o'er the emerald plains ; 
 Three pallid moons have graced the silver pole, 
 And lo! she now resigns her mild control. 
 
 SUMMER. 
 Now o'er the flow'ry hills and plains 
 The brilliant king of summer reigns ; 
 Transparent robes around him flow, 
 A golden chaplet wreathes his brow. 
 
 At his approach the streamlets fly ; 
 He breathes — their pebbled beds are dry ; 
 The cattle seek the cooling shade. 
 The flow'rets wither in the glade. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 45 
 
 Scarcely a zephyr stirs the trees, 
 
 And silent is the cooling breeze ; 
 
 The leaves hang withering from the spray, 
 
 Touched by the sun's refulgent ray. 
 
 The vocal songsters of the plains 
 
 Have hushed their wild and merry strains, 
 
 And seek within the leafy glade 
 
 The cool refreshment of the shade. 
 
 Far o'er the wide expansive plain 
 Are seen the golden sheaves of grain ; 
 The laden boughs are bending down 
 With rip'ning clusters to the ground. 
 
 At morn, through clouds of mist and gold. 
 The sun's bright chariot gently rolls, 
 In cloudless splendor mounts on high, 
 Then sinks behind the western sky. 
 
 And when bright day his car has driven. 
 In the crimson of the western heaven, 
 When sunbeams shoot along the wold, 
 And village roofs gleam in the gold, 
 
 All nature wears a lovely glow, 
 And peaceful murmurs softly flow, 
 The shepherd's whistle, milkmaid's strain, 
 The sheepfold bell far o'er the plain. 
 
46 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Then evening spreads her veil on high, 
 And gems her watchstars on the sky ; 
 And o'er the landscape, bright and gay, 
 The fairy moonbeams softly play. 
 
 The golden king in splendor reigns, 
 High o'er the bright and flowery plains, 
 But three short months have fled away, 
 And summer now resigns his sway. 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Pale autumn now reigns over hill and dale, 
 
 In sad and solemn array, 
 A faded wreath is on her brow. 
 
 And she's clad in robes of gray ; 
 The flowers are gone which brightly hung. 
 
 And the leaflets that streamed in the air, 
 The vines which in arches of beauty clung. 
 
 And the birds that warbled there, 
 All, all are gone, for her waving breath 
 To the children of spring is blight and death. 
 
 The wailing winds are wafting forth, 
 
 O'er faded tree and flower. 
 From the cavern haunts of the icy north, 
 
 With dark and blighting power ; 
 The towering mount is bleak and wild. 
 
 And sad through the ruined groves. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 4*J 
 
 Where the faded leaves are in death-mounds piled, 
 
 The blast on his cold wing roves ; 
 And the hills where the songs of spring were known, 
 Are echoing now to a mournful tone. 
 
 The rills pass on with a smothered song, 
 
 And the golden leaves are borne 
 On the wings of the blast as it sweeps along, 
 
 Like snow-flakes in the storm ; 
 And hark ! how the death-voice of summer grieves. 
 
 From the robin's notes in the dell, 
 From the sighing brook and the rustling leaves. 
 
 Which breathe like mimic knells — 
 Like knells which mourn the golden hours, 
 That died with the bright, young summer flowers. 
 
 The sun is wandering through the sky. 
 
 En wrapt in a hazy veil, 
 His dazzling brightness all is gone, 
 
 And his beams are dim and pale ; 
 Through shadowy clouds the stars shine out, 
 
 With a lustre bright and clear. 
 And the pale, cold moonbeams softly play 
 
 O'er the landscape sad and drear ; 
 And the sky, how it breaks in silvery beams, 
 Like the troubled light of our youth's bright dreams. 
 
 The river is stirred by the rapid sweep 
 Of the winds that dance on the shore. 
 
48 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 And the wave-flake scatters in foamy leap, 
 
 And the deep blue waters roar; 
 The gray rocks frown from the naked wood, 
 
 And the sear and blighted ground 
 Proclaims the autumnal solitude 
 
 That is reigning all around ; 
 Oh, autumn, sad autumn, there deeply dwells 
 A spirit of sadness in all thy spells. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Stern winter now has waked his reed. 
 His mantle o'er the meadows thrown, 
 
 The summer birds have left the glade. 
 The red-breast robin sings alone. 
 
 He sits upon an icy throne. 
 
 In snowy garments drest. 
 And a diadem of frozen gems 
 
 Upon his forehead rests. 
 
 Bleak winds are shouting o'er the hills, 
 
 And sweeping o'er the plains. 
 And the gladsome streams, and gushing rills, 
 
 Are bound in icy chains. 
 
 The far off mountain rears its head, 
 
 Enrobed in dazzling white, 
 And the pendant drops of crystal ice 
 
 Grleam in the sunbeams bright. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 49 
 
 The forest trees have lost their robes. 
 
 But on the heights are seen 
 The cedar and the spiral pine 
 
 In their eternal green. 
 
 The wind's wild song among the trees, 
 
 The red-breast in the dell, 
 Breathe forth in fitful melody 
 
 Departed summer's knell. 
 
 The music of the hunter's horn, 
 
 The baying of the hound, 
 Peal on the frosty air at morn, 
 
 As o'er the hills they bound. 
 
 And at eve, through clouds of golden sheen, 
 
 The lingering sunbeams glow, 
 And night comes forth an ebon queen, 
 
 With jewels on her brow. 
 
 And the fair chaste moon roils thro' the sky. 
 
 And throws her silvery beams 
 O'er the snow-clad hills, the leafy trees. 
 
 And icy-fettered streams. 
 
 Old winter is a monarch stern, 
 
 A cruel, heartless king ; 
 But, though he is so stern and cold. 
 
 Some joys to us he'll bring. 
 
 E 
 
50 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 We can surround our blazing hearth, 
 And bar our cottage door, 
 
 And spend the hours in joy and mirth. 
 Nor heed the loud wind's roar. 
 
 But still we wish this season drear 
 Would onward quickly roll, 
 
 And flowery spring once more resume 
 Her gentle, mild control. 
 
 CONSTANCY. 
 
 A FABLE. 
 
 On a bright summer morning when nature was gay, 
 And the landscape in beauty and loveliness lay, 
 When the dew-drops hung brightly on leaflets and 
 
 flowers, 
 And the birds caroled gaily among the green bowers, 
 
 In a wide-spreading garden, all blooming and gay, 
 A bright little Fairy was busy at play, 
 When, weary of flitting among the green bowers. 
 She flew ofi" to visit her fair friends, the Flowers. 
 
 First she went to the Tulip, who reared his proud head. 
 And amid the bright sunbeams his golden leaves spread. 
 And addressed him in tones soft as summer^s first breeze, 
 When it murmurs its song among the green trees : 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 51 
 
 "Oil Tulip, dear Tulip, if clouds veil the sky, 
 
 And the breeze and the sunshine should quickly pass by. 
 
 Should the cold rains descend, and the winds whistle 
 
 shrill, 
 Will you love me as truly, and shelter me still ?" 
 
 The Tulip bowed low, and replied, in a voice 
 
 Whose silvery tones made the Fairy rejoice, 
 
 " Should the cold rains descend, and the wint'ry winds 
 
 roar, 
 I will shelter you still, and love you the more ! " 
 
 The Fairy flew by on her flowery way, 
 And sought the bright Rose in her glorious array : 
 "Oh Rose, lovely Rose, should the wild tempest come, 
 Will you love me still truly, and give me a home ?" 
 
 She replied, while her cheek wore a still deeper hue, 
 ' ' I cannot tell why you should think me untrue ; 
 Should the summer-time pass and the wint'ry storms 
 
 roar, 
 I will love you, and shelter you still, as before." 
 
 The Fairy danced on, with a heart glad and bright, 
 To the Lily, who flourished in loveliness bright : 
 "Oh, Lily, pray tell me, if cold rains distill. 
 Will you faithfully love and shelter me still ? " 
 
 The Lily smiled sweetly, and softly replied, 
 "Sweet Fairy, you've greatly offended my pride ; 
 
52 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 When the raging winds blow, and the cold rains 
 
 descend, 
 Think you not that I'll still be an unchanging friend ? " 
 
 The Fairy frisked on, with a heart glad and gay, 
 On the zephyrs and sunbeams she sported away, 
 Till in a lone spot she happened to spy. 
 Through the green, glossy leaves, the Violet's blue eye. 
 
 She was an old comrade, all faithful and tried. 
 Whom she well-nigh forgot, in her splendor and pride ; 
 " Oh, Violet," she cried, "if by sorrow oppress'd. 
 Will you still be as faithful and true as the rest ? " 
 
 The Violet bowed low, and breathed a soft sigh, 
 While a dewy tear beamed in her bright, azure eye, 
 As she said, " Dearest Fairy, in days gone and past. 
 You have sheltered yourself 'neath my leaves from the 
 blast. 
 
 " There were few flowers then your wants to attend, 
 But noio you've forgotten your first early fi-icnd ; 
 But let it all pass — if in sorrow you be. 
 Come try my affection, and then you will see." 
 
 The Fairy danced gaily, and clapped her bright wings, 
 And reveled about 'mid the beautiful things ; 
 She sprang on a sunbeam, but scarce had she gone, 
 Before there blew up a wild raging storm. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 53 
 
 The rain fell in torrents, the red lightnings flashed, 
 The winds whistled loudly, the deep thunders crashed, 
 But away flew the Fairy amid the cold showers, 
 To seek for a shelter among the bright flowers. 
 
 "Oh, Tulip," she cried, " the bleak winds are chill, 
 Be true to your promise, and shelter me still ? " 
 "Begone !" said the Tulip, "I've nothing to do 
 With such lazy, wandering creatures as you ! " 
 
 The poor little Fairy was dripping and cold. 
 The rain had all ruffled her bright wings of gold ; 
 She was tired and weary, and needed repose, 
 So she wended her way to her fair friend, the Rose. 
 
 " Rose, you see that the storm and the tempest have 
 
 come, 
 Won't you shelter me still, and give me a home?" 
 Cried the Rose, "I can scarce hold my drooping buds 
 
 up. 
 Fly away to the Lily, she has a deep cup ? " 
 
 Down-hearted and sad, the poor little thing 
 Flew slowly away on her wet, drooping wing ; 
 When she came to the Lily she scarcely could stand. 
 And she lean'd for support on her bright silver wand. 
 
 "Oh Lily, the bright, golden summer has pass'd. 
 Please shelter me now from the wintery blast ? " 
 
 E- 
 
54 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 The LiljT turned coldly and proudly away, 
 
 " Gro seek for a shelter, with me you can't stay!" 
 
 The poor little creature was now nearly spent, 
 But away to her last friend, the Violet she went; 
 The sweet flower saw her coming, all sad and distress'd. 
 And took the wild, wandering one to her breast. 
 
 She dried her bright wings, and smoothed her wet 
 
 plumes, 
 And over her breathed the sweetest perfumes ; 
 She sheltered her till the wild tempest was past, 
 Till the cold rains had ceased, and hushed was the blast. 
 
 Then spake the sweet flower, in a soft, gentle tone, 
 " Fairy Queen, tis not well too widely to roam; 
 The love of one heart, confiding and true, 
 Is enough for bright Fairy, and fair woman too. 
 
 ' 'And an old friend you've tried, more faithful will be 
 Than those which in spring-time and summer you see ; 
 They will love you awhile, 'mid the sunshine and 
 
 flowers. 
 But leave and forsake you in life's clouded hours." 
 
 The Fairy believed every word she had said. 
 And on her blue bosom her soft cheek she laid ; 
 'Neath her sheltering leaves she erected her bower, 
 And the Fairies love Violets e'en to this hour. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 55 
 
 THE INDIAN'S DEATH SONG. 
 
 He sat with his dark mantle over him cast, 
 His hair, black and long, floated wild on the blast, 
 His brown cheek was flushed, his eyes beamed as bright 
 As stars that bespangle the bosom of night. 
 
 The plumes on his beaver had lost their gay hue. 
 The beads on his robe were dimmed by the dew, 
 His bow by his side lay still and unstrung, 
 And thus in sad numbers his Death Song he sung. 
 
 I was the flower of all my tribe, 
 My chieftain sire's favored son, 
 
 The bravest 'mid the battle cry. 
 
 The fleetest when the chase was won. 
 
 From craggy height, to leafy dell, 
 
 My war-whoop echoed loud and strong. 
 
 And where the ocean billows swell 
 My fleet canoe oft sped along. 
 
 Amid the forest's deepest bowers 
 My wigwam fire sent up its light ; 
 
 My door was wreathed with wildwood flowers. 
 Which moonbeams bathed in silvery light. 
 
 My music was the shouting wind, • 
 
 Which mingled with the eagle's cry; 
 
 My lamp, the glimmer of the stars. 
 Hung out upon the midnight sky. 
 
56 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 And there I reigned the lord of all, 
 
 And ruled my mountain home with pride ; 
 
 The olive grew beside my hearth, 
 Young Alluelah was my bride. 
 
 beautiful and bright was she, 
 
 My startled fawn, I loved her well ; 
 But now she's in the rainbow land, 
 My bitter grief I may not tell. 
 
 Like a gay song, my days went by. 
 No sorrow to our wigwam came. 
 
 And I a little warrior had, 
 
 Who bore my features and my name. 
 
 1 taught him how to bend the bow. 
 
 And safely scale the lofty height. 
 And o'er the wave his bark canoe, 
 Sped swiftly as a gleam of light. 
 
 But 'mid our joy the white man came, 
 
 Our war-whoop pealed from height to height, 
 
 The rest — Oh Grod ! my heart grew sick. 
 My brain reeled madly at the sight. 
 
 I saw young Alluelah lie, 
 
 All weltering in the crimson tide 
 
 That warmly from her young heart gushed. 
 My desert flower, my forest bride. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 57 
 
 My warrior son, I saw him stand, 
 The red flames o'er him curling high, 
 
 All undismayed amid their glare, 
 Undaunted was his eagle eye. 
 
 All cold and still the ashes lie. 
 Upon my wigwam's lonely hearth. 
 
 The flowers have faded in my bower. 
 
 The birds have hushed their songs of mirth. 
 
 My love, my friends, my all are gone, 
 On this wide earth I have no home ; 
 
 But yonder is the spirit land. 
 And AUuelah bids me come. 
 
 He ceased, and on the shrieking blast 
 The mournful numbers died away, 
 
 Dark tempest clouds hung o'er the sky, 
 And fearful was the closing day. 
 
 The proud Pacific thundered on, 
 Its foamy billows swelling high ; 
 
 He stood and gazed upon the flood, 
 With lofty mien and dauntless eye. 
 
 Then plunged into the rolling tide ; 
 
 The raging billows swept the shore. 
 The storm-god sang his funeral dirge. 
 
 The Indian chieftain was no more. 
 
58 * BHIEFPOEMS. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 Home ! blissful, cheering sound ! what sweet reflections 
 Centre in that word. How like the music of some 
 Heavenly choir it falls upon the ear, and fills 
 The heart with holy, deep emotion. It vibrates 
 Every tender cord within the breast, and rouses 
 Into action feelings which have long in sl^imber 
 Lain. Home ! how the bosom throbs at that blest 
 Sound ! what blissful recollections twine about that 
 Simple word. But breathe it in the ear, and 
 Fancy waves her magic wand, and bids the scenes 
 Of other days arise. 
 
 Again we see the well known spots 
 Where oft our childish feet have trod. The old plan- 
 tation 
 With its spreading lawns, where silver streamlets 
 Glided on in bubbling beauty, through the violet beds 
 Which lay all radiant with the sparkling dew, 
 And lifted up their fairy heads to kiss the 
 Morning ray. Where skipping lambkins held 
 Their merry sports, and tinkling bells, borne, with 
 The lowing of the grazing herds, upon the evening 
 
 breeze, 
 Made music sweet. 
 
 The well remembered garden, with its 
 Spacious walks, its fragrant shades and many-colored 
 Flowers ; the spreading oaks, the homestead of the 
 bees ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 59 
 
 The sparkling brook, where oft at fervid noon we 
 Quenched our thirst ; the mossy doorstep, where at 
 Evening hour we sat and watched the summer 
 Sun go down the western sky, and night come 
 Forth arrayed in ebon robes, with starry jewels 
 G-listening on her brow ; the blue bird's merry 
 Carols fi'om the waving trees ; the swallow's twittering 
 From the sloping eaves, and e'en the faithful 
 Watch dog's deep-toned voice, are heard again. 
 
 The household walls, with 
 All their old, familiar things ; the spacious arm-chair 
 Where our parents sat; the well-worn Bible in its 
 
 'customed 
 Place, from which at evening hour the precious 
 Truth was read ; the mingled music of the 
 Evening hymn, the holy voice of prayer ; our youthful 
 Friends, their merry sports and ringing, silvery laugh ; 
 A father's warm embrace, a mother's tears, with 
 All the fond endearments of our early youth, 
 We feel again. 
 
 Home I oh how sweetly falls that 
 Sound upon the ear, and what sweet recollections 
 Of the past, it wakens in the heart. How cheerless 
 They, who have no happy thoughts, no blissful mem- 
 ories 
 Of an early home, to gild their pathway, with their 
 Radiant light, and cheer their weary hearts, when life's 
 Dull cares oppress them, and their souls are sinking 
 
60 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Fast beneath a weight of woe. How cheerless they 
 Who have no pleasant dreams ; for whom life has but 
 Bitterness and woe ; who look not back upon the morn 
 Of life with pure delight ; who cannot call to mind, 
 The joys of other days ; whose way since life's first 
 Dawn has led thro' storms and clouds, ungildedby the 
 Peerless rays of love, undecked by friendship's never 
 Dying flowers ; whose hearts swell not with rapturous 
 Emotion, when they hear the blissfal sound of ' ' home." 
 
 do ask yon weather-beaten mariner 
 Upon the faithless deep, (when tempests rave, and 
 
 angry 
 Billows roll around his little bark ; when leaden clouds 
 Obscure his sky, when not a star, naught but the 
 Lightning's lui'id flash, illumes his way,) what is it 
 Bears him up above the raging storms, and cheers his 
 Heart amid the midnight gloom ? And will he not. 
 While tears bedew his sunburnt cheek, in accents 
 
 tremulous 
 With deep emotion answer. Home, sweet home ? 
 
 He'll tell you that amid the wint'ry storms 
 Thoughts of his far off home still urge him on. 
 And fill his heart with strength to persevere until 
 He gains his native land. Through fancy's glass 
 tie sees his own sweet cot ; his cheerful fireside. 
 With its fagots bright ; his prattling children, in 
 Their childish glee ; his pensive partner, looking 
 Forth with tearful glance, still hoping to descry 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 61 
 
 The distant sail which brings her loved one to 
 Her arms- again. 'Tis this that gives him strength 
 To struggle on, thro' warring elements and rolling 
 
 waves ; 
 'Tis home ! beloved home ! 
 
 Go ask jon thoughtful student as he 
 Sits, at midnight's mystic hour, beside his fitful lamp, 
 And pores with aching brow and weary eye over the 
 Volumes of old ancient lore, and drinks from learning's 
 Fount the draught of wisdom ; why wanders now his 
 Eye from off the well-stored page ? why steals that 
 Glistening tear adown his pallid cheek ? why sits that 
 High resolve upon his lofty, intellectual brow ? 
 Why gleams that smile of joy athwart his features 
 Pale ? why heaves his bosom with such deep emotion ? 
 And he'll answer, while big tears fall on the page 
 Before him. Home, home, sweet thoughts of home. 
 
 Go ask that way-worn pilgrim 
 Wandering o'er life's dreary waste, with silvery hair 
 And furrowed brow, fast sinking down beneath a 
 Weight of years. His youth, with all its early joys. 
 Has fled and gone ; his blooming hopes are dead ; 
 His dreams of bliss have passed upon the stream 
 Of time. His cherished friends, the loved ones of 
 His early days, have fallen one by one, beneath the 
 Hand of death, and he, like some lone monarch of 
 The forest^ stands alone, tossed rudely by the wint'ry 
 Blasts of life. His strength has gone, the rose 
 F 
 
62 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Has faded from his cheek, his eye is dull and dim ; 
 The frosts of age are glistening on his brow. 
 With feeble step, and slow, he wanders on o'er the 
 Rough path of life. What distant object fixes 
 Now his eager gaze, and whither are his feeble 
 Footsteps bent ? Before him Jordan's rolling 
 Current lies, its chilling waves are lashing now 
 About his feet. Why beams that heavenly smile 
 Athwart his features pale and careworn ? Go ask him 
 What it is that gives him strength, what cheers his 
 lonely [rowed 
 
 Heart? And while the tears of joy roll down his fur- 
 Cheek, and heavenly joy beams in his sunken eye, he'll 
 Point far in the distance, and reply, Yonder's my 
 home ? 
 
 But not an earthly home ; a home in heaven, 
 A glorious mansion far above the skies. Oh blissful. 
 Cheering thought ! how it transports and lifts the soul 
 From earth ! A home below, though blest with all the 
 World calls happiness, must have its woes. Sorrow 
 
 will 
 Steal among the sweetest flowers, and bind its iron 
 Chains about the heart. Friend after friend departs 
 And leaves a vacant place. Hope after hope will set 
 In endless gloom. Dream after dream will fade away 
 'Neath time's cold hand. There's nothing here but 
 
 must 
 Decay and die. There's not a heart, however light, but 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 63 
 
 Has its woes. There's not an eye, however bright, hut's 
 Sometimes dimmed by tears. Oh, fleeting, transient 
 As the early dew, that sparkles on the bosom of the 
 Flower, is earthly bliss. But there's beyond old Jor- 
 dan's 
 Rolling stream a home, a blissful home, where earth's 
 Dull cares come not ; where age steals not from youth's 
 Bright cheek the rose's bloom ; where sorrow casts no 
 Shadow o'er the sunny brow ; where tears of disappoint- 
 ment 
 Never flow ; where farewell sighs are never breathed ; 
 Where sin and death are both alike unknown. 
 
 How blest, how blest that home 
 To gain, after life's weary pilgrimage is o'er ; to join 
 The blissful throng around the throne and strike 
 The golden lyre in songs of praise. There, with the 
 Loved and cherished ones of earth, to wander o'er 
 Those high and flow'ry plains, where spring eternal 
 
 reigns, 
 In all her roseate bloom ; where silken zephyrs waft 
 The sweet perfume of never-fading flowers, and o'er the 
 Yerdant hills unending day his golden scepter waves ; 
 Where rolls the river of eternal life, close by the 
 Glittering throne ; where crystal streams are leaping 
 O'er the crimson onyx stones, and sounds of sweet 
 Celestial music fill the air. 
 
 There, bright, blooming garlands of 
 Unfading glory rest on every brow, and tears of sorrow 
 
64 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 All are wiped away. Oh who would not bear all 
 The ills of life, its woes, its disappointments, and 
 Its cares, that home to gain ? One glimpse of its 
 Bright glory will repay a thousand times all we 
 Have suffered here. Who would not gladly pass 
 O'er Jordan's stream, to enter thro' the golden gates 
 Of that celestial home ; to walk its pearly streets, with 
 Palms of victory in our hands, with glittering crowns 
 Of glory on our heads, there thro' the endless ages of 
 Eternity to dwell, with saints and angels, in our 
 Father's house ? 
 
 THE SAILOR BOY'S DREAM. 
 
 The night-wind stole softly across the dark ocean. 
 Its light wing scarce stirring the deep rolling tide, 
 
 All silent and hushed was the billow's commotion, 
 And the bright moonbeams played o'er its bosom 
 so wide. 
 
 The gods of the ocean had waked from their slumbers, 
 And reveled in gladness amid the green waves. 
 
 And music stole out, in softly tuned numbers, 
 
 From the sea-sylphs' wild harp in the deep coral 
 caves. 
 
 The moon, fair and bright, walked her pathway of 
 
 glory, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 65 
 
 Where the dark brow of night was with jewels 
 
 en wreathed, 
 And music as soft as love's whispered story, 
 
 From the pearl-glistening shells of the ocean was 
 
 breathed. 
 
 A homeward-bound vessel sped fleet o'er the waters, 
 And, bird-like, its white wings streamed proudly 
 and free ; 
 
 It stirred the green waves, and ocean's fair daughters 
 Fled back to their coral home 'neath the blue sea. 
 
 On the spray-dampened deck lay a beauteous sleeper. 
 His fair, golden ringlets danced gay on the wind. 
 
 And the wandering smile on his rose-lip grew deeper. 
 As sleep's fairy visions swept bright thro' his mind. 
 
 The long weary years of labor and sorrow 
 Were lost in the waves of oblivion's stream. 
 
 Through the vista of dreams he saw only the morrow. 
 All bright with love's roses and hope's fairy beam. 
 
 'Twas summer, and gently the breezes were blowing, 
 The sunbeams danced glad to the streamlet's wild 
 song, 
 
 Over dew-jeweled hills bright flowers were growing. 
 And birds waked their lays as the day glided on. 
 
 He stood in the village church, joy beamed around him, 
 Love's gentle whispers fall soft on his ear, 
 
66 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 The friends of his school-days, all smiling, surround 
 him. 
 His cheek is all wet with pleasure's bright tear. 
 
 And beside him, her dark eye lit up with devotion. 
 Is the maiden he loved in his boyhood's bright years. 
 
 His bosom heaved wildly with rapturous emotion. 
 As he dried, with love's kisses, her fast-falling tears. 
 
 And with blessings the snowy-haired pastor united 
 The fair hand with his, as she stood by his side ; 
 
 Their early made vows were faithfully plighted, 
 The love, of his youth was his own blushing bride. 
 
 The heart of the sea-boy beats wildly with gladness, 
 A smile full of joy o'er his rosy cheek plays. 
 
 From his heart quickly flies all traces of sadness. 
 As dew-gems grow dim 'neath the sun's golden rays. 
 
 On, on the proud vessel speeds fleet o'er the waters. 
 She mounts the dark billows, her wings gaily spread. 
 
 And music comes up from ocean's fair daughters. 
 And floats in soft strains round the dreamer's young 
 head. 
 
 ^l« ^1^ ^t^ ^tf sic ^IC ^{f 2l£ 
 
 The morning dawned all- gay and bright, 
 
 And sheened the azure ocean, 
 The billows lay in sullen sleep, 
 
 Hushed was their wild commotion ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 67 
 
 The golden sun came dancing up 
 
 Above the dark green wave, 
 Which threw its gloomy shadow o'er 
 
 The sea-boy's watery grave. 
 
 For deep amid the ocean shells 
 
 The gallant vessel lay, 
 The sea-gods 'mid its shattered wreck, 
 
 Held revels wild and gay. 
 
 And he, the fair young dreamer, slept 
 
 Amid the glistening pearls. 
 And the mermaid wove a glittering wreath 
 
 To deck his golden curls. 
 
 TO WILLIE. 
 
 We met when life was fair and bright, before a shadow 
 
 came 
 To steal away the childishness that sported round thy 
 
 frame, 
 In dreams of happiness we saw the golden hours flit by. 
 With hearts as free from grief and care, as creatures 
 
 of the sky. 
 
 And hand in hand we roamed along and culled the 
 summer flowers. 
 
 And listened to the bird's wild songs amid the green- 
 wood bowers, 
 
68 BRIEFPOEMS. 
 
 Or sought the pleasant valley, where the sparkling 
 
 waters hied, 
 And launched our mimic vessel upon the glassy tide. 
 
 Together to the old school-house our joyful steps we 
 
 bent, 
 And there, in toil and study, the passing hours were 
 
 spent; 
 And when our tasks were over, with shouts of mirth 
 
 and glee, 
 We sought our merry play-ground beneath the old 
 
 beach tree. 
 
 Our childhood, like a summer dream, in gladness 
 
 flitted by. 
 No lowering clouds had ever dimmed the brightness 
 
 of our sky ; 
 Our hearts were glad and free from grief, our brows 
 
 undimmed by care, 
 And the music of our merry laugh rang joyously and 
 
 clear. 
 
 In those bright hours of sunny light, those days of 
 
 trusting youth, 
 We thought that smiles were all sincere, and flattering 
 
 words were truth ; 
 But, oh, in this sad, changing world, too often do we 
 
 meet 
 (Instead of friendship, truth and love) with falsehood 
 
 and deceit. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 69 
 
 We thought our young hearts might rely on friend- 
 ship, truth and love, 
 
 And never dreamed that loving friends would fickle- 
 hearted prove ; 
 
 Too soon, alas! we learned that all our fairy dreams 
 of bliss 
 
 Will fade, as morning vapors do, at Phoebus' burning 
 kiss. 
 
 And many changes have been wrought in the time so 
 
 fleet and brief, 
 Long-cherished hopes have fled away— bright joys 
 
 been changed to grief; 
 Altered and saddened is the scene, how changed that 
 
 happy day I 
 Dark wint'ry clouds have veiled our sky, and summer's 
 
 passed away. 
 
 I've often thought, with earnest hope, that we again 
 
 might share 
 The sunlight of our early youth undimmed by clouds 
 
 of care ; 
 
 But happy hours of hope and love we ne'er again may 
 see. 
 
 This world has widely difi'erent paths, and ours must 
 difi*erent be. 
 
 When last I met thee thou wert still as beautiful and 
 gay 
 
70 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 As when I shared thy hopes and joys in childhood's 
 sunny day; 
 
 And yet, methought, upon thy face there was a shad- 
 owy cloud, 
 
 And thy spirit, once so free and wild, seemed by sor- 
 row slightly bowed. 
 
 I marked a pearly tear oft start within thy soft blue eye. 
 
 And a shade of sadness flit across thy brow so pure 
 and high ; 
 
 And I wept to think thy trusting heart, so light in 
 childhood's hour. 
 
 Should ever feel the crushing weight of sorrow's blight- 
 ing power. 
 
 This life is all 'a chequered scene, made up of smiles 
 
 and tears; ' 
 Our hearts are sometimes filled with hope, and then 
 
 bowed down by fears ; 
 But smiles of true sincerity can gild the darkest day. 
 And friendship's tender hand can wipe the saddest 
 
 tears away. 
 
 Youth's golden dreams have passed away, its cherished 
 hopes have fled, 
 
 Its visions bright, like faded flowers, are blighted, cold 
 and dead ; 
 
 But still, while trusting hearts are ours, and friend- 
 ship sheds its ray. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. Tl 
 
 We'll onward go, nor heed the clouds which hover 
 o'er our way. 
 
 And, like the rainbow in the storm, the hope of 
 
 heaven remains, 
 To guide our wandering steps from earth to those 
 
 celestial plains. 
 Where sorrow never wrings the heart, where come no 
 
 clouds of gloom, 
 But where the weary wanderer may find a peaceful 
 
 home. 
 
 WHY I WEEP. 
 
 " 'Tis not because my lot is low, 
 That makes these constant tears to flow ;" 
 It is not grief that makes me sigh. 
 It is that all I love must die. 
 
 It is because the summer rose 
 Blooms but to wither and decay, 
 
 Because the silver moon of spring 
 Scarce brightens ere it fades away. 
 
 Because the west sheds softest dyes, 
 Just as the day has closed for ever, 
 
 And friendship's bright and golden ties 
 Seem brightest when about to sever. 
 
72 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Because the rainbow's gorgeous hues 
 Fade like a vision from the sight, 
 
 And dark clouds veil the azure sky 
 Where all was beautiful and bright. 
 
 Because youth's bright, unclouded day, 
 Its cherished hopes and sunny dreams, 
 
 Will pass away like early dew. 
 
 Before bright Phoebus' burning beams. 
 
 Because the fondest, dearest ties 
 
 That bind the heart are soonest riven, 
 
 Bright hope departs on truant wing, 
 And faded joys to life are given. 
 
 Because I've heard the last faint sigh, 
 Breathed from the lips I held so dear, 
 
 Have caught the fond glance from the eye. 
 Where brightly beamed the parting tear. 
 
 Because I know from those I love 
 So dearly well I soon must part, 
 
 And see the cold earth close above 
 The cherished idols of my heart. 
 
 Because in this dark, changing world. 
 There's nothing constant but decay ; 
 
 The brightest, fairest things of earth 
 Are ever first to pass away. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 13 
 
 'Tis this that makes mj tears to flow 
 'Tis this alone that makes me sigh, — 
 
 That all I prize and love on earth 
 Must quickly fade away and die. 
 
 But life is naught but fantasy, 
 
 Its joys are for a brief hour given, 
 
 Dark clouds enshroud its summer sky, 
 Its only joy is hope of heaven. 
 
 For, oh, there is a glory land 
 
 Far, far beyond this world of gloom, 
 
 Where bowers ne'er their verdure lose, 
 Nor flow'rets bright their early bloom. 
 
 Where loved ones never more will part. 
 Where disappointments never come. 
 
 Where sorrow never wrings the heart, 
 And farewell tears are all unknown. 
 
 WILD FLOWERS. 
 
 They are springing up, the lovely flowers. 
 
 O'er valley, mount and hill. 
 They are blooming in the greenwood bowers, 
 
 And by the gushing rill. 
 
 In shadowy nooks far down the dell. 
 
 And in the meadows gay, 
 G 
 
74 BRIEF rOEMS. 
 
 They are lifting up their tiny heads, 
 To kiss the morning ray. 
 
 Wild flowers, wild flowers, they are passing fair, 
 While their opening buds in the sunlight swell, 
 
 While their incense floats on the silver air. 
 And the gentle wood-birds among them dwell. 
 
 While he stirs their leaves with his glancing wing, 
 And his song wakes glad "in the morning heaven, 
 
 As he basks in the golden smile of spring. 
 And his rapturous chant in its joy is given. 
 
 They are passing lovely, ephemeral flowers, 
 
 And their smiles are brief on this changeful earth ; 
 
 They are fleeting and bright as life's guileless hours, 
 As a dream of love in youth's early mirth. 
 
 Wild flowers, wild flowers, how the morning sun 
 Pours his laughing beams on their glowing buds ! 
 
 'Mid their leaves is heard the wild bee's hum, 
 With the restless wing of the humming bird. 
 
 They spread their leaves in the morning ray, 
 
 While the zephyrs play through the forest trees. 
 
 And the murmuring streams, through the meadows gay. 
 Make whispered music in sun and breeze. 
 
 But their leaves will bow to the blighting blast. 
 While the sear buds fall from the lonely stem. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 75 
 
 And the autumn winds, as they murmur past, 
 Will be pouring their mournful requiem. 
 
 They are emblems meet of youth's sunny hour, 
 Ere the heart has been crushed by life's dull cares, 
 
 Ere the brow has been dimmed by grief's dark power, 
 And youth's golden hopes been quenched in tears. 
 
 The wint'ry winds blight their fragile buds. 
 And their blooming beauty will soon decay. 
 
 So youth's gilded dreams, and glittering hopes, 
 On time's dark stream are borne away. 
 
 But their breath floats up to the azure sky, 
 
 So our prayers like incense to heaven should rise, 
 
 So the heart's best homage should soar on high. 
 And leave us as pure as the flowers and skies. 
 
 THE WIDOW'S LAMENT. 
 
 The plants that leaped to life when spring 
 Awoke the earth with rose-tipt wand. 
 
 The birds that soared on buoyant wing, 
 No longer cheer a smiling land. 
 
 The robe of green that summer wore 
 Is losing fast its beauteous hue, 
 
 For tree and meadow, fruit and flower, 
 Have felt the cold autumnal dew. 
 
•76 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 But not for flower or bird I weep, 
 Or leafless tree, or meadow drear ; 
 
 The dews of grief these eyelids steep, 
 For thou art gone, my Edwin dear. 
 
 The grave, the grave, I saw it close 
 O'er cheek and eye, o'er lip and brow ; 
 
 The anthem and the prayer arose, 
 And all I loved is nothing now. 
 
 Around the glad and teeming earth 
 Again will spring its beauties shed ; 
 
 But vain to me her scenes of mirth, 
 They cannot renovate the dead. 
 
 The merry songsters of the grove 
 
 May sing as they were wont to sing ; 
 
 But thou wilt never with me rove 
 
 To mark the bursting charms of spring. 
 
 They say 'tis weak to mourn for thee. 
 And weak to them these tears may seem ; 
 
 They ne'er my bosom's pangs can see. 
 Or sound the depth of sorrow's stream. 
 
 The sheltering arm I leaned upon, 
 
 The gentle voice that calmed my fears, 
 
 Are gone ! and naught remains for me 
 But sorrow, loneliness, and tears. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 77 
 
 That eye which fondly beamed on me, 
 That smile which chased away my gloom, 
 
 That hand which wiped my tears away, 
 Are hidden in the silent tomb. 
 
 Yes, he my loved one, he has pass'd 
 
 In youth's bright spring-time to the tomb; 
 
 The beaming star that used to cast, 
 Its ray on me, has set in gloom. 
 
 And in the deep and voiceless night, 
 When nature's scenes in silence sleep, 
 
 Beneath the pale moon's pensive light, 
 I watch beside thy tomb and weep. 
 
 I think of those old happy days 
 
 When first thy voice charmed my ear, 
 
 When first my throbbing heart confessed 
 Thou wert of all the world most dear ; 
 
 When at the altar's sacred shrine 
 
 We pledged our vows for weal or woe. 
 
 To share each other's hopes and fears. 
 Together through life's waste to go. 
 
 Thy trusting love and tenderness 
 Still brightly in my memory dwell ; 
 
 And when I know that thou art gone. 
 My anguish, deep, tongue may not tell. 
 
78 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 And must I tread life's path alone, 
 And hear thy loving voice no more ? 
 
 Nor ever meet thy loving smile 
 
 Which charmed my heart in days of yore ? 
 
 I'll sit beside thy new-made tomTb, 
 
 And mourn my lonely fate ; 
 I cannot bear our own old home, 
 
 It is so desolate. 
 
 My bursting heart is filled with grief, 
 
 I've none to love me now ; 
 No hand to dry my falling tears. 
 
 Or soothe my aching brow. 
 
 Thou canst not chide my sorrow now, 
 
 My tears thou canst not see ; 
 And I will weep beside thy tomb 
 
 Until I come to thee. 
 
 When kneeling by that spot, methinks 
 
 Thy spirit hovers near, 
 And borne on every sighing breeze 
 
 Thy gentle voice I hear. 
 
 For, oh, I know where'er thou art 
 
 Thou wilt remember me. 
 And as a guardian angel oft 
 
 Thy spirit near may be. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. *79 
 
 I know if thou couldst come to me, 
 
 Thou'd chide my grief and woe, 
 And bid me haste to meet with thee 
 
 Where loved ones part no more ; 
 
 Where ghastly death can never wing 
 
 Affection's tender heart, 
 Where friends may love without alloy, 
 
 And never, never part. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 Oh bear me away to some lonely spot. 
 Where the cares of the world shall trouble me not ; 
 Where the footsteps of man are never known, 
 And my heart may find a peaceful home. .^ 
 
 Oh bear me away ! I am sick of life. 
 
 Of its heartless pleasures, and sorrow and strife ; 
 
 For the cup of joy that we seek to sip. 
 
 Ere we taste it, is dashed aside from our lip. 
 
 Oh bear me away ! for my joys have fled. 
 And my cherished hopes are cold and dead ; 
 My mind is on the rack of pain. 
 Nor love, nor hope for me remain. 
 
 All that I treasured once as gems 
 Are like the roses from their stems ; 
 
80 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 The dreams of youth's unclouded prime 
 Have passed upon the stream of time. 
 
 With the ghad and gay I have no part, 
 
 And their mirth grates harshly upon my heart ; 
 
 Then bear me away to some lonely spot, 
 
 Where the world and its cares shall trouble me not. 
 
 LINES TO A * * * *. 
 
 I've leaned upon another's arm, 
 
 And strayed beneath the evening sky, 
 And gazed upon the placid moon 
 \ That walked her jeweled path on high. 
 
 I've listened to another's voice. 
 
 Whose every tone spake love and truth, 
 And met warm glances from the eye 
 
 Where brightly shone the fire of youth. 
 
 From other lips the words of love 
 Have gently fallen on my ear ; 
 
 But in my heart they touched no cord. 
 They woke no answering echo there. 
 
 For still in memory's hallowed urn 
 Thy cherished image brightly burns ; 
 
 And, like the needle to the pole, 
 My heart to thee for ever turns. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 81 
 
 For 'twas in childhood's golden hours, 
 Ere grief and care had played their part, 
 
 That unto thee I freely gave ~^\^ A I V [ 
 
 The first pure homage of my heart\ T O-^^ 
 
 But since those hours of trusting youth, 
 When love its rainbow-pinions spread, 
 
 Bright hope has fled on fickle wing, 
 And grief its dark libations shed. 
 
 Dark wint'ry clouds have veiled my sky, 
 
 And cast a shadow o'er my way. 
 And cold and faded are the flowers 
 
 That bloomed for me in life's young day. 
 
 But still the bright and golden dream 
 
 Which fondly nestles in my heart, 
 'Neath time's cold hand can never fade, 
 
 Or from my memory depart. 
 
 For never, never from my heart 
 
 Can time thy cherished image blot ; 
 The dreams of other days may fade, 
 
 Thou canst not be forgot. 
 
 I'll journey on, cheered by the hope 
 
 That we, when life's dull cords are riven, 
 
 May share a happier, brighter lot. 
 
 And meet, to part no more, in heaven. 
 
82 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 META'S BRIDAL. 
 
 Go gather a wreath of the brightest flowers, 
 Bring violet buds from the wild wood bowers, 
 Bring the blushing rose, and the lily fair, 
 To twine in the young bride's raven hair. 
 
 The glance of her eye is as wild and free 
 As the lightning's flash on the dark blue sea ; 
 The raven's wings in her eye-brows streak, 
 And the lily and rose revel on her cheek. 
 
 Her voice Is the voice of a sinless child, 
 And it thrills the heart with its music wild ; 
 Her heart is pure and free from guile, 
 And warm and bright is her sunny smile. 
 
 Then hasten away and gather fresh flowers, 
 The brightest that deck the greenwood bowers ; 
 Twine the blushing rose and the lily fair. 
 In a chaplet bright, for her raven hair. 
 
 ^ H: ^ ;ic ^ 
 
 Thus wakes the song from many laughing girls. 
 Whose hearts are pure as ocean's stainless pearls ; 
 Their silvery voices floating on the breeze. 
 And softly murmuring through the waving trees. 
 
 Glad are their hearts as joyously they bound 
 With playful steps along the velvet ground ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 83 
 
 With silvery laughter wake the sylvan bowers, 
 And weave bright garlands of the sweetest flowers. 
 
 'Tis Meta's bridal eve, the stars are out, 
 And lend their voiceless gladness to the shout, 
 And gladsome strains burst on the twilight air, 
 Which seem to echo mirth and frighten care. 
 
 The glittering stars brightly gem the azure sky ; 
 The moon in silent grandeur walks her pathway 
 
 bright on high ; 
 The dew comes gently down upon the op'ning flowers. 
 Like pearly gems from bright elysian bowers ; 
 
 While from the arch of blue the moon pours down 
 
 her beams, 
 Lights up the flowers, and gilds the gliding streams, 
 Throws o'er the earth a flood of silvery light, 
 And fills the heart with visions of delight. 
 
 Pale bride of night, whose pathway is the sky, 
 Thy silvery beams can gild wan sorrow's eye, 
 O'er the bruised spirit shed a soft repose. 
 And make the grief-worn heart forget its woes. 
 
 Oh sweetly smile upon the holy rite 
 Which joins two willing, loving hearts this night ; 
 Look from thy starlit throne and seal the vow, 
 And may it be in after years as fondly breathed as 
 now. 
 
84 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Oh join their hearts in bonds of holy love, 
 Which when they loose on earth will reunite above ; 
 Oh may thy smile shed blessings, pure and bright, 
 On plighted love, and Meta's bridal night. 
 
 Thus rose the prayer from those fair, sinless maids, 
 Who kneeled together in the twilight shades, 
 While Meta, tossing back her raven hair. 
 Clasped her small hands, and joined the fervent 
 prayer. 
 
 Her deep, dark lustrous eyes, to heaven turned, 
 Betrayed how much of passion in them burned, 
 Betrayed the struggle of her earthly love 
 'Tween thoughts of man below and heaven above. 
 
 Yes, that fair creature strove her heart to raise 
 To that bright land where all is love and praise ; 
 But oft amid her heavenly dreams would stray 
 Thoughts of an earthly idol formed of clay. 
 
 An image which had crept into her heart, 
 
 And in its deep devotion claimed a part. 
 
 Whose gentle tones had charmed her listening ear, 
 
 Soothed all her sorrows, banished every fear. 
 
 And when from heaven's high dome she turned 
 
 away. 
 Tossed back her curls and bade her looks be gay ; 
 
BRIEFPOEMS. 85 
 
 In deep, rich tones, she heard Alonzo speak, 
 And felt his burning kisses on her cheek. 
 
 Alonzo. — Oh Meta, thy cheek outvies the rose, 
 Thine eyes excel the ray 
 That flashes from the brightest gems 
 Of ocean's sunny spray. 
 
 Thy lips are red as coral cells. 
 Thy teeth are bright as pearls, 
 
 And the raven's wing cannot compete 
 With thy glossy silken curls. 
 
 The ring-dove loves his downy nest, 
 The wild steed loves the desert glade, 
 
 The lion loves his balmy rest, 
 
 The lambkin loves the greenwood shade, 
 
 The eagle loves his mountain tree, 
 
 Alonzo's heart can love but thee. 
 
 Meta. — The turtle loves his tender mate, 
 
 The eaglet loves its eyrie height, 
 
 The wild fawn loves its mountain state, 
 
 The owlet loves the dismal night. 
 
 The flow'ret loves the moistening dew, 
 The gold-fish lores the silver stream. 
 
 The sky-lark loves to soar on high, 
 And warble in the sun's first beam ; 
 
86 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 But fonder far than these or thee 
 Will Meta to Alonzo be. 
 
 They clasped each other in a wild embrace, 
 And felt that time their love could ne'er efiace ; 
 They felt 'twas pure and true, and fondly vowed 
 No change would ever tinge its sunshine with a cloud. 
 
 Meta's young heart bea,t wildly with delight, 
 And life to her was a perspective bright ; 
 The voice of hope sung sweetly in her breast, 
 Soothed all her cares, and lulled her woes to rest. 
 
 The rites are o'er, the silken knot is tied. 
 
 The blushing Meta is Alonzo's bride ; 
 
 Her young companions strew her way with flowers. 
 
 And pray that joy and bliss may crown her hours. 
 
 And now young Meta leaves her childhood's dome. 
 
 And seeks with changing man another home. 
 
 Thrice the woods have been attired in garments gay, 
 Thrice have they faded 'neath. stern winter's sway, 
 Thrice too the flowers have budded, bloomed and died, 
 Since gentle Meta bore the name of bride. 
 
 5j* JjC 5|C #j* 5(* 
 
 As fleeting time pursues his curbless path, 
 
 Here plucking flowers, and there distilling wrath, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 87 
 
 He stamps the lines of care on many a brow, 
 
 And blights the cherished hopes of young affection's 
 
 vow, 
 Robs many a bosom of its sweet repose, 
 And blights on many a cheek the blooming rose ; 
 Alas, alas that Meta's trusting heart 
 Should feel the force of sorrow's poignant dart. 
 Should see her cherished hopes before her fade away, 
 Which beamed so brightly on her life's young day ; 
 Alas, alas that her fond heart should feel 
 A cause for grief, and yet that grief conceal. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Thrice the pale moon had walked her pathway bright, 
 
 Which shone so fair on Meta's bridal night, 
 
 When false Alonzo frowned upon the maid, 
 
 And all her trusting love and confidence betrayed ; 
 
 The fatal wine-cup lured him from her side, 
 
 And soon he learned to love its ruby tide. 
 
 In vain by all her fondest arts she strove 
 
 To win one smile for all her proofs of love ; 
 
 In vain she sung for him his favorite air. 
 
 It moved him not, and she was all despair. 
 
 At morn he left her angry, and he came, 
 
 When twilight shades fell on the earth, the same ; 
 
 The wine-cup held him in its potent sway, 
 
 And Meta's dream of love had passed away ; 
 
 The rose-bud fiided from her velvet cheek, 
 
 She lost the gladsome tones she once could speak. 
 
88 BRIEFPOEMS. 
 
 Her beaming eye lost all its lustrous light, 
 And in its misty depths the tears shone bright ; 
 Her slight, frail form, by slow and sure decay, 
 And broken hope, was wasting fast away; 
 Soon grief and sorrow snapt the springs of life. 
 And freed her soul from falsehood, sin and strife, 
 And her pure spirit gently passed away. 
 As dew-drops waste before the morning ray, 
 And upward, like the incense from the flowers, 
 Her young soul winged its way to heaven's bowers. 
 
 ?I^ ^P ^v ?l* jp 5|* 
 
 And false Alonzo, where, oh, where is he ? 
 
 Not in the halls of merriment and glee, 
 
 Not round the festal board, where goblets shine, 
 
 And boon companions quaff the ruby wine ; 
 
 Gro look within the prison's gloomy cell, 
 
 Where sorrow, vice and dissipation dwell, — 
 
 There lies his faded form upon a felon's bed ; 
 
 For ever from his mind the lamp of reason fled, 
 
 Dim and faded is his eye which sparkled once so 
 
 clear. 
 Haggard is his manly form, once so bright and fair. 
 Lured by the sparkling wine-cup from wisdom's 
 
 pleasant ways. 
 He is doomed within a prison's walls to end his 
 
 wretched days. 
 
/ 
 
 BRIEF POEMS. 89 
 
 THE LOVER'S REQUEST. > 
 
 Oh smile as thou wert wont to smile, 
 And cast away that look of sadness ; 
 
 Thy voice could once my cares beguile, 
 It was so full of joy and gladness. 
 
 Now on thy brow there rests a cloud, 
 
 A tear shines in thy azure eye ; 
 Has grief thy gentle spirit bowed. 
 
 And told thee all thy joys must die ? 
 
 Despair not ; though with aspect dark 
 
 Life's ever-changing tide rolls on, 
 Though wild winds toss thy little bark, 
 
 True hearts are thine ; heed not the storm. 
 
 We pledged our vows 'neath clouded skies. 
 When raging storms swept o'er the earth, 
 
 And we are bound by holier ties 
 Than those which sunny hours gave birth. 
 
 We have not loved as those who pledged 
 
 Their vows in sunny weather, 
 But we have loved as those who tread 
 
 Life's thorny path together. 
 
 Love, born in hours of joy and mirth. 
 With joy and gladness may depart ; 
 
 But that which darker hours gave birth 
 Will ever twine about the heart. 
 
90 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Then heed not life's oppressive cares, 
 Its griefs and cares be all forgot ; 
 
 Love's cheering light shall gild our way, 
 And make our life a sunny spot. 
 
 'Tis true my pathway oft is dark. 
 And wint'ry clouds obscure my sky, 
 
 And roughly moves my little bark 
 O'er life's tempestuous, troubled sea. 
 
 Strange chequered scenes of joy and woe, 
 Fond fleeting hopes and boding fears, 
 
 It still has been my lot to know. 
 
 And joy has oft been quenched in tears. 
 
 But while thy eyes, my chosen one. 
 
 Beam faithfully on me, 
 I will not heed the clouds of grief, 
 
 Which seem my destiny. 
 
 Thy voice can soothe my wildest fears. 
 
 And chase my gloom away, 
 Thy hand can dry my bitterest tears. 
 
 Thy smile can gild my darkest day. 
 
 Then take! oh take me for thine own, 
 Thy every care and grief to share ; 
 
 This arm shall shield thy fragile form, 
 And guide thy steps with tender care. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 91 
 
 WRITTEN ON aiVINO BACK A RING. 
 
 Take back tliy ring, thy precious ring, 
 
 Sweet token of a happier time ; 
 Grlad was my heart, bright were my hopes, 
 
 When first thou bade me call it mine. 
 
 I yield it with a tearful eye, 
 
 And painful thoughts my bosom swell. 
 For those bright days have all gone by, 
 
 When it and thee I loved too well. 
 
 It seems as if the spell were broken 
 Which fondly bound my heart to thee, 
 
 As if the dread farewell were spoken. 
 And I no more thy smile may see, — 
 
 Thy smile which in my early hours 
 Awoke within me thoughts of love, 
 
 And strewed my sunny path with flowers. 
 Bright as the Eden flowers above. 
 
 I prized it, and with deep devotion 
 
 I wore it long and loved it well, 
 And in my heart it waked emotion, 
 
 How deep and wild I may not tell. 
 
 I prized it with that holy pleasure 
 
 Which trusting hearts alone can know ; 
 
 With miser care I watched my treasure. 
 But take it back, those days are o'er. 
 
92 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Thou art happy, while my soul is weeping, 
 While grief is on my throbbing brow, 
 
 And memory her sad dream is keeping. 
 Of days once bright, but faded now. 
 
 ->» 
 
 ^^ ^'-l^.-r/l ^ -^ ^ ^ LOVE. ,/^ ^'^V-^^ 
 A feeling fondly woven round the' heart, 
 
 Before that heart is stained by worldly vice, 
 Before one vow has acted falsehood's part, 
 
 Or one cloud shaded young hope's paradise : 
 To dream the idol object we adore, 
 
 A purer creature than the things of clay, 
 An insulated spirit from that shore 
 
 Where mortals throw mortality away : 
 To blend that loved one's name in every prayer. 
 
 Beseeching heaven their pathway to bestrew 
 With blooming flowers, without the thorns of care. 
 
 Unfading wreaths perfumed with heavenly dew : 
 To dream that loved one guiltless as an infant's smile, 
 
 With heart as pure as angel ones above, 
 Free from all falsehood, treachery and guile. 
 
 Oh these are pure and doubtless signs of love ; 
 Oh these are wild'ring thoughts which melt the soul. 
 
 And make it spurn the cold, cold world's control. 
 
 But oh, to wake from hope's deluding dream. 
 When long bright years of love have passed away, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 93 
 
 To find but frowns where smiles were wont to beam, 
 
 And dark clouds shading young affection's ray ; 
 To know that bosom, cankered with deceit, 
 
 Infatuation's pencil painted true ; 
 To reap but bitterness, where all seemed sweet, 
 
 And watch our early joys fade from our view ; 
 To see the cherished hopes of life's young day, 
 
 Like early flowers, all blighted, cold and dead, 
 To meet dark sorrow where all once was gay 
 
 When o'er us love its golden sunshine shed : 
 To feel that pride's ennobling hopes are cross'd, 
 
 That passion blinded us to reason's sway, 
 To see the visions of life's spring-time lost. 
 
 And feel our spirit's sinking to decay : 
 Oh then the drooping heart must turn to heaven. 
 Weep o'er the past, and wish the false forgiven. 
 
 C H I L D H D . ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ "^^ 
 
 Oh golden days of childhood. 
 Ye have faded from my sight, 
 
 With all your joy and gladness, 
 Your hopes so pure and bright. 
 
 In fancy's dream I oft again 
 
 Live o'er your sunny hours, 
 And your memory comes floating back 
 
 Like incense from the flowers. 
 
94 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Again my heart bounds wildly 
 With emotions glad and free, 
 
 As when I joined the merry sports 
 Beneath the hawthorn tree. 
 
 Oh what a happy band were we, 
 With bosoms free from care, 
 
 Our merry shouts of mirthful glee 
 Pjgaled on the morning air. 
 
 We gamboled round the old school-house 
 Beneath the oak tree's shade, 
 
 Or sat beside the little stream 
 That bubbled through the glade. 
 
 We wandered through the forest wide, 
 And plucked the first spring flowers, 
 
 And watched the linnet build her nest, 
 Among the leafy bowers. 
 
 Our days in gladness fled away, 
 
 Beneath a smiling sky. 
 We thought life all was bright and gay, 
 Nor dreamed our hopes would die. 
 
 But where are now those golden hours, 
 Of youth's unclouded prime ? 
 
 Alas, alas ! they've fled away 
 On the dark stream of time. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 95 
 
 Alas ! like morning's early dew, 
 
 How transient was their stay ! 
 They glittered brightly for a while, 
 
 But quickly passed away. 
 
 And where are they whose bosoms throbbed 
 
 AYith pure and stainless truth, 
 Where is the shout of mirthful glee, 
 
 The joyous laugh of youth ? 
 
 They're gone for aye, they're severed wide, 
 
 The young, the glad, the gay, 
 And in the chequered scene of life 
 
 Each has a different way. 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 'Twas on a balmy eve in spring, 
 
 The air was soft and mild, 
 The feathered songsters filled the grove 
 
 With music rich and wild. 
 
 The golden sunbeams fell athwart 
 Th(i budding things and flowers. 
 
 Danced gaily o'er the high tree-tops. 
 And gamboled 'mid the bowers. 
 
 I sat beside a silver stream, 
 Where blue-eyed violets grew. 
 
96 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Where water lilies stooped to drink, 
 And gentle zephyrs blew. 
 
 The hum of insects floated soft 
 
 Upon the balmy air, 
 The wild bee hummed his drowsy song 
 
 Among the flow'rets fair. 
 
 Thus lulled by nature's charming sounds, 
 
 My heart forgot its woes, 
 And undisturbed by grief or care, 
 
 I sank to sweet repose. 
 
 My spirit then roamed o'er 
 
 Green fields of golden light, 
 Where laughing sunbeams sported 
 
 O'er murmuring waters bright ; 
 
 Where whispering zephyrs bore aloft 
 
 The incense of the flowers, 
 And bright-wing'd birds pour'd forth their lays 
 
 Amid the leafy bowers. 
 
 At last methought before me rose 
 
 A mountain towering high, 
 And on its lofty summit stood 
 
 A dome that reached the sky. 
 
 A gorgeous pile, the work of fairy hands, 
 Lofty and grand its noble form upreared. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 97 
 
 Its countless columns glitteringlj white, 
 
 And all unscathed by touch of time, appear'd. 
 
 As, with bewildered look and wondering air, 
 
 I viewed the scene so strange, and yet so fair, 
 
 Sudden upon my startled sight 
 
 Poured forth a flood of golden light, 
 
 A brilliant flood of radiance sent 
 
 From window, tower, and battlement ; 
 
 And lo ! forth from the lofty dome 
 
 Appeared a fair and queenly form, 
 
 Whose flashing eyes and lofty grace, 
 
 Grave token of her noble race; 
 
 Upon her queenly brow was set, 
 
 Mark of her rank, a coronet. 
 
 And brightly flashed each glittering gem 
 
 That decked the royal diadem ; 
 
 In her fair hand she held a chaplet bright, 
 
 Whose dazzling splendor dimmed my sight ; 
 
 On me she gazed with friendly look. 
 
 And thus in silvery accents spoke ; 
 
 Seest thou this craggy mountain wild. 
 This palace on its summit piled, 
 And dost thou wish to know its name ? 
 It is the lofty dome of ' ' Fame !" 
 I am the " Goddess." I bequeath 
 On all my votaries a ivreatli. 
 Which never fades. 
 I 
 
98 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Wouldst thou this dazzling chaplet win ? 
 To scale the mount thou must begin ; 
 But gain the summit, and 'tis thine ; 
 Upon thy brow 'twill brightly shine. 
 The fadeless wreath, bestowed by "Fame," 
 Grives lustre to an humble name ; 
 Look on the prize, and don't despair; 
 Behold, the laurel's fresh and fair 
 Which soon will deck thy brow. 
 
 With quickened breath, and lips apart, 
 Uplifted hands, and beating heart, 
 I gazed upon the dazzling prize 
 The goddess held before my eyes ; 
 I longed to win the treasure bright 
 Which beamed before my raptured sight, 
 And I resolved to scale the height 
 That rose before me. 
 
 Slowly, and step by step, I clambered up 
 The craggy peak. And as I nearer gained the top, 
 Methought the chaplet grew more bright. 
 After long weary hours of toil and pain, 
 I gained the summit. With eager haste 
 I stretched my hand to grasp the toiled-for prize. 
 But lo ! ere I had touched it, ignis fatuus-like, 
 • It disappeared. In vain I sought the dazzling 
 Wreath to find ; alas, 'twas gone ! 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 99 
 
 I thought upon my weary toil, all spent for naught, 
 Wild, deep emotions choked my utterance, my heart 
 Seemed bursting under its dark weight of woe, 
 When, lo ! I suddenly awoke. 
 
 The big May moon in grandeur walked 
 
 Along her pathway bright. 
 And shed o'er valley, mount and stream, 
 
 A flood of silvery light. 
 
 Nature was buried in repose, 
 Save when the whispering rill 
 
 Mingled its murmurings with the notes 
 Of the plaintive Whippoorwill. 
 
 I slowly traced my homeward way, 
 
 While deeply on my heart 
 Was stamped the lesson I had learned, 
 
 And will not soon depart. 
 
 'Tis ever thus the joys of earth 
 
 Before us glitter bright, 
 But when we seek to make them ours, 
 
 They vanish from our sight. 
 
 And thus our ceaseless toil and care 
 
 For vanity are given; 
 All things on earth are false as fair. 
 
 There's nothing true but heaven. 
 
100 
 
 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 WHY SHOULD TRUE HEARTS WEEB? 
 
 J^^liy should true hearts weep 
 
 / O'er the false-hearted, >''..».^ 
 
 t "Why love's mementoes keep ^^ 
 
 V W hen love's departed V" t - 
 
 X I 
 
 Why mourn o'er faded dreams, ; 
 
 And fond hopes blighted, 
 O'er confidence betrayed, vlj'^ 
 
 Aifection slighted? 
 
 'Tis weakness to repine. 
 
 Though sometimes sad and lonely ; 
 Pass o'er the gloomy hours, 
 
 And note the bright ones only. 
 
 If inconstancy our hopes has crushed, 
 And filled our hearts with pain, 
 
 'Tis no sufiicient reason why 
 We should not trust again. 
 
 If one heart's false, another's true ; 
 
 There's pleasure here as well as sorrow 
 Though clouds may veil the sky to-day. 
 
 The sun will shine again to-morrow. 
 
 Then taste life's pleasures as they fly. 
 And to its cares pay no attention. 
 
 For many of the woes we feel 
 Are solely of our own invention. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 101 
 
 The little flow'rets, bright and fair, 
 By wint'ry winds strewn o'er the plain, 
 
 Though withered, blighted, cold and dead, 
 When spring returns will bloom again. 
 
 And though our cherished hopes may fade, 
 And fondest, dearest ties be riven, 
 
 Though brightest joys fade away. 
 They'll bloom for us again in heaven. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 Oh tell me, joyous Birdling, 
 
 If in thy distant flight 
 Through the leafy bowers of summer, 
 
 Along the sky so bright. 
 Hast thou seen no happy spot, 
 In all thy wanderings lone, 
 Where the stricken heart of man 
 Might find a peaceful home ? 
 
 The Birdling staid its silken wing, 
 
 Its gladsome voice grew low, 
 And, in a mournful, touching strain. 
 It sadly warbled, No ! 
 
 Oh tell me, hoary Ocean, 
 
 If on thy mighty way. 
 
 As thy rolling billows sweep along 
 
 With undisputed sway, 
 I* 
 
102 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Hast thou seen no sunny island, 
 
 No sweet, sequestered spot, 
 "Vyhere grief- worn, wretched man 
 Might find a happy lot ? 
 
 Old Ocean heaved a mournful sigh, 
 
 Its billows ceased to flow. 
 And from its bosom, dark and deep, 
 A voice responded, No 
 
 Oh tell me, rushing Winds, 
 As ye madly sweep along. 
 And the trackless forest echoes 
 With the music of your song. 
 Have ye seen no flow'ry region, 
 
 No valley, sweet and fair. 
 Where sorrowing man might rest . 
 From earth's distracting care ? 
 
 The loud Winds staid their rushing wings. 
 
 And sunk to whispers low. 
 And, murmuring through the forest trees. 
 Sighed back their answer, No ! 
 
 Oh tell me, silver Moon, 
 
 If along thy path on high. 
 In all thy nightly wanderings 
 
 Through the star-bespangled sky, 
 Hast thou seen no land of pleasure. 
 No region calm and lone, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 103 
 
 Where erring, sinful man 
 Might find a peaceful home? 
 Behind a shadowy cloud 
 
 The Moon withdrew in woe, 
 And on the whispering zephyr 
 Floated her answer, No ! 
 
 Then is there not a spot 
 
 On all the earth's wide breast, 
 Where man's grief-stricken heart 
 
 May find unbroken rest? 
 Must he always pine in sadness, 
 
 Must his tears for ever flow, 
 
 And his weary heart be doomed 
 
 To wretchedness and woe ? 
 
 Bright Hope her golden pinions spread. 
 
 And waked her harp of love, 
 And sweetly breathed the heavenly strain, 
 There's rest for man above. 
 
 I LOVE THE COUNTRY. 
 
 I love the country ;(^yes, I love) 
 
 Its grassy knolls and towering hills. 
 
 Its waving trees and murmuring streams, 
 The music of its gushing rills, 
 
 I love to roam where wild flowers lift 
 Their heads to kiss the morning ray. 
 
104 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 When dew-drops tremble on the leaves, 
 And wild birds dance from spray to spray. 
 
 I love its pure and balmy air, 
 
 Freighted with incense from the flowers, 
 Its moss-grown rocks and wild retreats, 
 
 Its shadowy groves and wildwood bowers. 
 
 Oh yes, I love to tread those scenes 
 Where quiet reigns the livelong day, 
 
 Where, crowned with lasting evergreens, 
 She revels all the night away. 
 
 There is a charm in every sound 
 That echoes from the woodland tree, 
 
 From the woodpecker's tapping sound 
 To the wild robin's melody. 
 
 There beams in nature's rural scenes 
 
 A lonely, pleasing solitude. 
 When summer smiles in emerald green. 
 
 Or autumn waves her yellow hood. 
 
 Let summer bloom, or winter blow 
 Its raging blasts so loud and shrill. 
 
 Yet still there is a constant flow, 
 A source of pleasure lingers still. 
 
 The city life may have its charms. 
 Its scenes of joy, and parties gay. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 105 
 
 When bright eyes beam with hope and love, 
 And music lends its potent sway. 
 
 But give to me the country life, 
 It can more heartfelt joy afford 
 
 Than all the works of art and wealth 
 Which glitter round the festal board. 
 
 TO ONE WHO ASKED WHY MY BROW WAS CLOUDED. 
 
 Why should my brow be glad. 
 
 Why should my step be gay, 
 Since every thing is fleeting here. 
 And flowers but bloom to disaj^pear. 
 
 And joys but to decay ? 
 
 Year after year flits by, 
 
 And leaves us to our doom ; 
 And every one, to mark its flight, 
 Has cast on some loved thing a blight, 
 
 To mind us of the tomb. 
 
 Like the bright icy wreaths 
 
 Which deck our wint'ry trees, 
 Such are our hopes, as cold as fair. 
 They vanish while they glitter there. 
 
 E'en in the first slight breeze. 
 
106 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 The grieved heart may wear 
 Pleasure's bright, sunny smile, 
 
 May seek to lure away its grief ; 
 
 But smiles bring not the wished relief, 
 Sad thoughts they cannot wile. 
 
 Then how can I be glad, 
 How can my heart be gay, 
 
 Since all that I had deemed most true 
 
 Is faithless as the early dew 
 That glitters on the spray ? 
 
 The hopes which brightly shine 
 
 Around our path to-day, 
 The dearest friends, the brightest hours, 
 The fondest love, the fairest flowers, 
 
 Are first to pass away. 
 
 The fairy dreams of earth. 
 
 Which all so brightly shine. 
 The visions of youth's early day, 
 Are destined all to pass away 
 On the dark stream of time. 
 
 My brow must then be sad. 
 
 My tears unbidden start. 
 Until they all are wiped away 
 In those bright realms of endless day. 
 
 Where loved ones never part. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 107 
 
 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 'Twas evening, and the rolling waves 
 
 Had sighed themselves to rest, 
 The setting sun's departing rays 
 
 Blazed on the billow's breast, 
 
 Where, pictured in the waters clear, 
 
 The fleecy clouds were seen 
 Which floated in the azure west, 
 
 With tints of golden sheen. 
 
 The moon was slowly peeping up 
 
 Above the waters bright, 
 And one by one the twinkling stars 
 
 Enwreathed the brow of night. 
 
 The night winds, as they whispered by, 
 Scarce stirred the rippling waves ; 
 
 The mermaid waked her plaintive harp 
 Deep in the coral caves. 
 
 The moonbeams sported o'er the tide. 
 
 The billows seemed to sleep. 
 While a gallant bark of noble form 
 
 Was bounding o'er the deep. 
 
 Her broad sails woo the evening breeze, 
 
 Now rising to a gale, 
 As gallantly she rides along. 
 
 Both under steam and sail. 
 
108 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Soft strains of music from her deck 
 
 Steal on the evening air, 
 With merry bursts of joyous mirth, 
 
 Which seem to frighten care. 
 
 And there on hoard are bosoms filled 
 With fancies pure and bright, 
 
 Whose hearts beat high with ardent hope. 
 And visions of delight. 
 
 They watch to catch the first faint glimpse 
 
 Of their own native land. 
 Where loving friends are waiting them 
 
 In many a household band. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! they little think 
 Their prospects, now so bright, 
 
 Will soon for ever blighted be. 
 And set in endless night. 
 
 On, on the gallant steamer sped 
 
 Upon her watery way. 
 Now mounting billows dark and deep, 
 
 Now ploughing through the spray. 
 
 A gentle gale her broad wings swells. 
 Which gleam like sheets of snow ; 
 
 Above, the sky is bright and fair. 
 The ocean calm below. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 109 
 
 But hark ! What mean that lurid flash, 
 Those awful sounds, that deaf ning crash ? 
 The smiling sky is veiled in clouds ; 
 Black darkness now the ship enshrouds ; 
 The ocean heaves, the waves run high, 
 A storm commingles earth and sky. 
 The vessel rocks from side to side, 
 While through her joints the waters glide ; 
 The sails are all to atoms riven, 
 High o'er the deck the waves are driven ; 
 The mad winds roar, the lightnings flash, 
 Tne billows roll, the thunders crash, 
 The elements combine in angry form, 
 "And darkness aggravates the storm." 
 Through foaming waves and billows dark, 
 Now plunges the devoted bark ; 
 The storms increase, she cannot last; 
 The hopeless captain stands aghast. 
 The crew are all in wild dismay ; 
 Some shriek, and others faint away, 
 As, with deep fear and wild amaze. 
 Out on the angry storm they gaze. 
 
 There stands the holy man of prayer. 
 With furrowed brow, and silvery hair ; 
 He gazes on the fearful scene 
 With countenance calm and serene ; 
 Sweet resignation fills his soul ; 
 Though lightnings flash and thunders roll, 
 K 
 
110 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 He trusts, with holy, heavenly peace, 
 In Him who makes the tempests cease, 
 In ocean's Lord, who bids them roll. 
 And can their angry waves control. 
 
 And there the youthful husband stands, 
 With pallid cheek and trembling hands, 
 And wildly clinging to his side. 
 Like some frail vine, his lovely bride ; 
 Their hopes, which rose so fair and bright, 
 Destined to set in endless night. 
 
 And there is one who wandered wide. 
 
 Far, far beyond the rolling tide, 
 
 And sought, on India's burning shore. 
 
 To gather heaps of golden ore ; 
 
 With heaving breast, and quivering lip. 
 
 Distracted air, and hurried step. 
 
 He walks the deck with tearful eye. 
 
 While round him waves run mountain high. 
 
 His hands are clasped, his cheek is pale. 
 
 His dark hair streaming on the gale ; 
 
 He thinks of all his toil and care. 
 
 His glittering wealth he hoped to share 
 
 With one he loved in life's young day. 
 
 His dark-eyed maiden, far away. 
 
 The storms increase, the tempest raves. 
 The steamship madly rides the waves ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. Ill 
 
 She cannot last amid the storm, 
 
 And from their hearts all hope is gone ; 
 
 A sweeping blast, a lurid flash, 
 
 A gurgling, hissing sound, a crash, 
 
 A cry the human heart to chill, 
 
 Another crash, and all is still. 
 
 Down, down the fated suff'rers go. 
 
 To sleep in ocean caves below ; 
 
 The fated ship, through angry waves. 
 
 Sinks down to ocean's gloomy caves. 
 
 'Tis morning, and the raging storm 
 
 Has sighed itself to sleep ; 
 The golden sun steals slowly from 
 
 His palace in the deep. 
 
 His glittering rays dance gaily o'er 
 
 The ocean's placid breast. 
 Which sleeps as calm as if no storm 
 
 Had e'er disturbed its rest. 
 
 The cloudless sky smiles calmly down 
 
 Upon the faithless ocean. 
 And silent are the billows dark, 
 
 So late in wild commotion. 
 
 But where is now the gallant bark. 
 
 And all its manly crew ? 
 They're sleeping 'neath the billows dark, 
 
 Deep hid from mortal view. 
 
112 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Mother, thy son is there ; 
 
 His face you'll see no more ; 
 Deep in his ocean bed he sleeps, 
 . Far from his native shore. 
 
 "Widow, thy husband's there. 
 Thy hope, thy pride, thy joy ; 
 
 Thy father sleeps in death, 
 Poor, prattling orphan boy. 
 
 Sister, thy brother, too, 
 
 Whom thou didst love too weU, 
 
 Who kissed away thy tears, 
 When bidding thee farewell. 
 
 Rests in his wat'ry grave, 
 Far from his home so dear ; 
 
 His face no more thou'lt see, 
 His voice no more thou'lt hear. 
 
 Maiden, thy lover's there ; 
 
 That noble, manly form 
 Sank with the hapless crew 
 
 Beneath the raging storm. 
 
 He sleeps deep in the sea, 
 Amid the glist'ning pearls, 
 
 And corals red and sparkling gems 
 Bedeck his raven curls. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 113 
 
 Still is that throbbing heart 
 Which beat so true to thee, 
 
 Dim is that sparkling eye 
 
 Which beamed so proud and free. 
 
 Thou'lt watch for him in vain, 
 No more he'll come to thee ; 
 
 With that ill-fated crew 
 He slumbers in the sea. 
 
 For them no beacon beams, 
 
 No cheering fagots burn ; 
 They slumber in the ocean depths, 
 
 And never can return. 
 
 There they must calmly rest, 
 Till the command is given 
 
 To raise old ocean's slumbering hosts- 
 Then you will meet in heaven. 
 
 A FRAaMENT. 
 
 I saw her in life's early morn. 
 
 Before a cloud of care 
 Had dimmed the brightness of her brow, 
 
 Or cast a shadow there. 
 
 Her cheek was like the blush of morn, 
 Her voice was glad and wild ; 
 
114 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Her bosom free from grief and care, 
 She was a happy child. 
 
 Her home was among the sunny hills, 
 Where the rose in its bud was sleeping, 
 
 Where the birds kept time with the laughing rills, 
 In the golden sunshine leaping. 
 
 She wandered among the clustering vines. 
 
 And culled the bursting flowers, 
 Till her cheek caught the hue of the blushing buds 
 
 That grew in the wildwood bowers. 
 
 Her heart was as free from sin and guile, 
 As the lamb on the green sward playing ; 
 
 And warm was the light of her smile so bright, 
 While through the meadows straying. 
 
 Her young heart throbbed with childish joy, 
 And brightly her eye was beaming, 
 
 As she bounded away o'er the meadows gay, 
 Her tresses gaily streaming. 
 
 Her haunts were among the woodland dells. 
 And her footsteps crushed young flowers ; 
 
 She loved the voice of the warbling birds, 
 As they sung in the leafy bowers. 
 
 She stood on the brow of the dizzy clifi". 
 And sipped the sparkling fountain ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 115 
 
 She crossed the lake in a crazy skiff, 
 And scaled the lofty mountain. 
 
 Her childhood passed as a summer dream, 
 Undimmed by thoughts of sadness ; 
 
 Her smile was bright, her heart was light, 
 And her voice was full of gladness. 
 ****** 
 I saw her again, 'twas at evening hour. 
 And she sat 'neath the shade of a trellis'd bower ; 
 The bloom on her cheek had grown more bright, 
 And her soft eye beamed with a holier light ; 
 She had thrown off the garb of her childhood time, 
 And was now in the bloom of her maiden prime. 
 She sat in the shadows, and by her side 
 Was one in the strength of his manhood's pride, 
 Of a lofty look and a noble form ; 
 And he spoke to the maiden of feelings warm, 
 He breathed in her ear his words of love, 
 Which he vowed were as true as the stars above ; 
 He told the maid that her cheek was fair, 
 That he loved the sheen of her sunny hair ; 
 And he called her all that his lips could breathe, 
 Or a tongue could speak, that loved to deceive. 
 She heard the words that fell from his tongue, 
 And they touched her heart so pure and young ; 
 She learned to love his winning smile. 
 For she thought him free from deceit and guile ; 
 
116 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 She deemed him true, and loved him well, 
 
 With a deep devotion tongue may not tell. 
 
 I thought of her childhood's gladsome hours, 
 
 When she wandered amid the wild wood bowers, 
 
 And I looked in vain, for I could not trace 
 
 A shade of grief on her smiling face ; 
 
 And I prayed that her trusting heart might be 
 
 From grief and sorrow for ever free. 
 
 I loved to mark the rose tints spread 
 
 O'er her young cheek their freshest red, 
 
 To watch the kindling of her eye 
 
 Gleam like a glance of witchery. 
 
 I may not paint her every charm. 
 
 Her blushing face, so bright and warm, 
 
 All full of life and loveliness. 
 
 With smile to cheer, and voice to bless. 
 
 Alas ! that a form so young and fair. 
 
 And a heart so true, should meet despair. 
 
 slf sti 2^ sic sic sic 
 
 I saw her again, but the rose's leaf. 
 From her fair young cheek had faded, 
 
 And the crushing weight of her bitter grief. 
 Had her starlit beauty shaded. 
 
 The witching light of her soft blue eye, 
 And her cheeks, that roses cherished. 
 
 With the silv'ry tones of her gladsome voice. 
 And her coral lips had perished. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 11*7 
 
 With a sunken cheek and pallid brow, 
 
 And thin and fragile ifingers, 
 With a voice whose tones are sad and low, 
 
 In her childhood haunts she lingers. 
 
 Her long, loose hair, like a banner dark, 
 
 Around her form is flying. 
 As with mournful steps she roams away. 
 
 Where the autumn winds are sighing. 
 
 How sadly changed from the gladsome child. 
 
 The happy, loving maiden, 
 Is that clouded brow, and tearful eye. 
 
 And that heart with sorrow laden I 
 
 Her first pure dream of early love. 
 
 Which her young heart fondly cherished, 
 
 With all her bright and blooming hopes. 
 And dreams of bliss, have perished. 
 
 The one she trusted was all untrue. 
 
 His vows have all been broken, 
 And his flattering words of changeless love 
 
 Are as if they had ne'er been spoken. 
 
 ******* 
 
 I saw her again, but the silver cord 
 
 Of life was snapt in twain, 
 And her gentle, sufiering heart was freed 
 
 From sorrow, grief and pain. 
 
118 
 
 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 She was lovely still, in the arms of death, 
 
 As she was in the days of yore, 
 And the smile on her pale lips seemed to say, 
 
 "My sufferings all are o'er." 
 
 They laid her away in a silent spot, 
 
 'Neath the shade of the fi-agrant bowers. 
 
 Where her little feet had often trod 
 In childhood's golden hours. 
 
 There she rests in peace, and her gentle heart 
 
 By grief is wrung no more, 
 x\nd her happy spirit in gladness roams 
 
 O'er a far off blissful shore, 
 
 Where the sorrows and cares of earth come not 
 To mar those realms of golden day, 
 
 Where joy perennial reigns unmixed with grief, 
 And brightest hopes can ne'er decay. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 I know this earth is beautiful ; 
 
 I love the evening skies. 
 When sunbeams tinge the azure West 
 
 With bright and blushing dyes. 
 
 I love the budding trees and flowers. 
 The zephyrs whispering by, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 119 
 
 And yet it does not pain my heart 
 To tell me I must die. 
 
 I love the little twinkling stars, 
 The moon's pale, glistening light ; 
 
 The towering mount, the shady dell, 
 The rushing waters bright ; 
 
 I love the music of the winds 
 
 That sadly murmur by ; 
 And yet it never pains my heart 
 
 To know that I must die. 
 
 I love the social scenes of earth, 
 
 The sunny hours of youth, 
 The converse sweet of loving friends. 
 
 Whose bosoms throb with truth ; 
 
 I love to cherish fairy dreams, 
 
 And build my castles high ; 
 And yet it does not pain my heart 
 
 To tell me I must die. 
 
 For in my brightest dreams of bliss, 
 
 My fondest, purest love. 
 When earth seems fair beneath my feet, 
 
 The sky all bright above, 
 
 Some cloud of care, some shadowy grief, 
 Will dim my summer sky, 
 
120 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Oh then it gives me sweet relief 
 To know that I must die. 
 
 The fondest love will pass away, 
 The sweetest flowers will fade, 
 
 And cherished dreams and lofty hopes 
 Soon in the dust are laid. 
 
 And then when sorrow wrings my heart, 
 And tear drops dim mine eye, 
 
 It soothes and calms my troubled soul 
 To tell me I must die. 
 
 For smiling are the fields of peace 
 
 That glimmer through the vale of death ; 
 
 There the soul's pleasures never cease, 
 Like flowers at autumn's blighting breath. 
 
 Bathed in that holy calmness there, 
 The heart can know no grief or pain ; 
 
 Past are the throbbings of despair, 
 Or dreams of youth mused o'er again. 
 
 'Tis sweet to rest from grief and woe, 
 To slumber in the silent grave ; 
 
 Where we may sleep in dreamless rest. 
 Though thunders roll and tempests rave. 
 
 And then to wake on some bright shore. 
 Where gladness reigns the livelong day. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 121 
 
 Where never-fading flow'rets bloom, 
 And springtime ne'er will pass away ; 
 
 To roam in gladness o'er those plains, 
 Where rolls the silver stream of life, 
 
 Where love unfolds his rosy wing, 
 And every breeze with joy is rife ; 
 
 To dwell, through never-ending time, 
 Where mortal feet have never trod, 
 
 Within the new Jerusalem, 
 The golden city of our Grod. 
 
 TO Y ***** * 
 
 My youthful friends are circled round me now, 
 In merry tones their silvery voices sound, 
 
 Hope in each eye, and pleasure on each brow. 
 And with their mirth the twilight air resounds. 
 
 No mark of grief or sorrow I can trace, 
 But joy is beaming forth from every eye ; 
 
 Bright sunny smiles illumine every face. 
 And not one gentle bosom heaves a sigh. 
 
 But I am sad, my spirit is oppressed, 
 
 Though all around me is so glad and gay ; 
 
 For how can joy dwell in this lonely breast, 
 When thou, my loved one, thou art far away? 
 L 
 
122 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 There's wondrous beauty in thy soft dark eye, 
 Within whoso misty depths deep thoughts repose, 
 
 There's magic influence in thy deep-drawn sigh. 
 Which tells that life to thee has had its woes. 
 
 One smile from thee is more, far more to me, 
 Than all the homage of the world beside, 
 
 And sooner would I share a cot with thee, 
 Than in a royal palace to reside. 
 
 A DIRGE TO THE OLD YEAR. 
 
 Hark ! what means that deep-toned knell, 
 
 Pealing solemnly and slow ? 
 What strange tidings doth it tell ? 
 
 Speaketh it of joy or woe ? 
 
 Another year has passed away 
 On the rolling stream of time ; 
 
 'Tis for that the solemn knell 
 Pealeth out its farewell chime. 
 
 Farewell old year, with all thy joys, 
 
 Thy chequered scenes of hope and fear ; 
 
 Thou art gone, and to thy memory 
 We drop the tribute of a tear. 
 
 Thou hast borne upon thy rustling wings 
 Long cherished hopes and fancies bright ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. , 123 
 
 And pallid cheeks and tearful eyes 
 
 Have marked tliy sure and rapid flight. 
 
 And many a loving, gentle heart, 
 
 In young affection's early bloom, 
 Has fallen 'neath the storms of life, 
 
 And slumbers in the silent tomb. 
 
 But still, old year, thou hadst thy joys, 
 
 Thy hopeful seasons of delight ; 
 The sorrows strewn along thy way, 
 
 Were gilded oft by pleasure's light. 
 
 Though disappointments marked thy way, 
 And bright dreams faded 'neath thy power, 
 
 Yet hope oft shed^her cheering ray. 
 And lighted up the passing hour. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, departed year ; 
 
 Thou art gone, with all thy hopes and fears ; 
 And we, like thee, are passing on, 
 
 And soon must leave this vale of tears. 
 
 THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 Hail ! happy new year, 
 So glorious and bright, 
 
 How gladly thou dawnest, 
 Dispersing the night. 
 
124 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 The clouds flee away, 
 The darkness is gone, 
 
 And gaily thou comest, 
 Bright soul-cheering morn. 
 
 Many hearts hail thy coming 
 With joy and delight ; 
 
 Their hopes are all blooming, 
 Their future is bright. 
 
 May you bring them no sorrow, 
 
 To darken their way. 
 But may joy shed around them 
 
 Its bright, sunny ray. 
 
 But again there are sad ones, 
 Who greet thee with tears. 
 
 Whose bosoms throb sadly 
 With sorrow and fears. 
 
 May you bring to their lone hearts 
 Some kind, sweet relief, ' 
 
 To still their repinings 
 And soften their grief. 
 
 May you bring to them strength 
 
 Their way to pursue. 
 With hope fill their bosoms. 
 
 Their courage renew. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 125 
 
 And, oh, may we all 
 
 Live nearer our Grod, 
 Submit to his will. 
 
 Meekly bow 'neath his rod. 
 
 May our strength be renewed. 
 And our hearts filled with might, 
 
 To struggle on nobly 
 
 Through sorrow's dark night. 
 
 Oh may we with meekness 
 
 Our trials endure. 
 For in mercy they're sent 
 
 To make us more pure ; 
 
 To free us from sin. 
 
 And sinful desire. 
 And make us like gold 
 
 llefined in the fire. 
 
 May we live through the year 
 So that, when it shall close, 
 
 Our hearts may be filled 
 With peace and repose. 
 
 No vain, sinful follies 
 May we have to repent. 
 
 But feel that the year 
 Has been properly spent. 
 
 L^ 
 
126 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 ON VISITINO THE POTOMAC. 
 
 Oh this green earth is beautiful and bright, 
 And there are scenes so ravishingly fair, 
 
 That if but once they smile upon the sight, 
 
 Through many an hour after they linger there. 
 
 And such are thine, "Potomac;" thy bosom, blue 
 
 and wide. 
 Where the white-robed wanderers of the deep in royal 
 
 beauty ride, 
 Is like some dream of fairy land, all beautiful and gay, 
 As o'er thy azure-tinted waves the golden sunbeams 
 
 play. 
 
 Dark waving trees and craggy rocks hang o'er thy 
 
 winding stream. 
 And shelter thy bright bosom from summer's burning 
 
 beam ; 
 And the music of thy rippling waves comes stealing 
 
 on the ear. 
 Like strains from some wind-shaken lute, the lonely 
 
 heart to cheer. 
 
 Roll on, thou glorious river, thy name in song will live 
 So long as minstrel harp-strings a gladsome sound 
 
 can give ; 
 " Mount Vernon" smiles beneath thy skies, and in 
 
 thy leafy shade 
 The Hero of our country, great Washington, is laid. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 127 
 
 Oh I have gazed upon thee, and heard thy waters roll, 
 Till thoughts sublimely beautiful came rushing o'er 
 
 my soul ; 
 Thou wakedst a joy within my heart, too deep for 
 
 aught but tears, 
 To be cherished in my memory, long, long in after 
 
 years. 
 
 I'm sitting 'neath the shadows of evening's stilly hour, 
 The Vesper God distills his gems o'er leaflet, tree and 
 
 flower ; 
 The sun has dropped behind the hills, the moon is 
 
 riding high, 
 And twinkling stars are peeping out upon the azure 
 
 sky. • 
 
 With tears of high-wrought feeling, my eyelids now 
 are wet. 
 
 For sweet and pleasant memories are thronging round 
 
 me yet, 
 I'm thinking of that witching hour, that glorious, 
 
 moonlit night. 
 When I took my last, fond, farewell glance on thy 
 
 blue waters bright. i 
 
 Then happy friends were round me, with bosoms glad 
 and gay. 
 
 We spoke of life's enjoyments, of youth's bright, happy 
 way. 
 
128 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Of visions fondly cherished, and hope that filled the 
 
 heart ; 
 Alas that dreams, so bright and fair, are destined to 
 
 depart. 
 
 My eyes are dimmed with burning tears, and sadly 
 
 throbs my heart ; 
 For ever, all I loved the most, was soonest to depart. 
 And we, that happy youthful group who sat together 
 
 there, 
 May never meet with hearts as glad, as free from grief 
 
 and care. 
 
 But never, never from my heart can time those memo- 
 ries blot. 
 
 The pleasures of that fleeting hour will never be forgot, 
 
 But like a sunbeam through the clouds^ that hover 
 o'er my way. 
 
 They'll live and cluster round my heart until life's 
 latest day. 
 
 LINES TO AN ABSENT FRIEND. 
 
 When early morning shineth, 
 With all its glories bright. 
 
 When gentle eve declineth. 
 In the lone hush of night. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 129 
 
 In every place or station, 
 
 Where'er I move or be, 
 There dwelleth deep ^YJkthin^ my heart 
 
 Sweet thoughts, my'fi?i««d, of thee, f /?«r- 
 
 I never see a beaming eye, 
 
 But speaks to me of thine, 
 Whose every glance spoke truth and love, 
 
 And fondly beamed on mine. 
 
 I never hear a merry voice, 
 
 A gladsome, laughing tone. 
 But calls me back to those bright days, 
 
 When I could hear thine own. 
 
 I mingle with the glad and gay. 
 
 The careless, giddy throng ; 
 I join their merry, mirthful glee. 
 
 Their revelry and song. 
 
 They little know, who see my lip 
 
 With sunny smiles en wreathed. 
 That deep within my inmost heart • 
 
 The sigh of grief is breathed. 
 
 I know that thou wouldst chide my tears. 
 
 And bid my heart be gay ; 
 But still I must and will be sad 
 
 While thou art far away. 
 
130 BEIEF POEMS. 
 
 Dark waters roll between us now, 
 Bleak, towering mountains stand. 
 
 And boundless distance separates 
 Thee from thy native land. 
 
 Thou art far away, and it may be 
 That we shall meet no more. 
 
 And I may never hear thy voice. 
 Which charmed my heart of yore. 
 
 But something whispers in my heart, 
 When wint'ry storms are past, 
 
 And emerald spring has o'er the earth 
 Her flow'ry mantle cast, — 
 
 When flow' rets bloom, and birdlings sing. 
 And skies are bright above, 
 
 That thou wilt come to me again, 
 And cheer me with thy love. 
 
 SLEEP. 
 
 When heaves with sighs my anxious breast. 
 And every comfort is withdrawn. 
 
 When sorrows have my heart oppressed. 
 And all my hopes have fled and gone, — 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 131 
 
 Then, when the day has passed away, 
 And night her sable curtain spread, 
 
 Sweet sleep doth to my eyelids come, 
 And o'er my heart bright visions shed. 
 
 Then, yielding to its kind embrace, 
 I soon forget my grief and pain ; 
 
 My spirit, freed from worldly care, 
 
 Goes back thro' youth's bright paths again. 
 
 Sweet silvery tones fall on my ear. 
 
 Soft hands are fondly clasped in mine ; 
 
 The loved and lost again appear, 
 
 And smile as in my youth's bright time. 
 
 But, oh, to wake from love's embrace. 
 To meet but sorrow, grief and pain. 
 
 For oh ! sleep cannot grief efface ; 
 With morning light it comes again. 
 
 But soon the sleep of death will come. 
 No sorrow then will reach my breast, 
 
 When in my silent, narrow home, 
 
 Freed from the earth's dull cares, I rest. 
 
 Then will my ransomed spirit roam 
 O'er some bright, sunny, far off shore, 
 
 Where disappointments never come, 
 Where farewell tears are shed no more. 
 
132 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 MY NATIVE LAND. 
 
 How many bards pour forth their lays, 
 To chant another nation's praise, 
 To sing a lay of other climes, 
 Or tell some tale of olden times ; 
 But now to nobler strains I'll wake 
 My lyre, to liberty, and take 
 My country for my theme. 
 
 Not e'en Italia's sunset skies, 
 Painted with rainbow's richest dyes, 
 The vine-clad hills of flow'ry France, 
 Where zephyrs sport, and sunbeams dance, 
 Old Scotia's scenery wild and rare, 
 Can with thy rural charms compare, 
 My loved, my native land. 
 
 To tell thy glory would be vain, 
 And I would touch a softer strain, 
 And sing of all thy beauties bright, 
 Gilded with j&oods of golden light, 
 Thy rolling streams, thy smiling sky, 
 Thy lofty mountains towering high, 
 Unscathed by storm or time. 
 
 Around thy desert wilds a hue. 
 Soft as the heaven's tints of blue. 
 Mild as the evening's setting ray, 
 In changeless beauty seems to play. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 133 
 
 Their only music is the roar 
 Of waters rippling on the shore, 
 Or winds that sing a lullaby 
 That sweetly blends its melody 
 
 With some lone songster's lay. 
 
 Can we then find no pleasure here ? 
 In solitude so wild and drear, 
 In trackless shade and wilderness, 
 Are earth's enjoyments rendered less ? 
 Ah, no ! methinks to sit alone. 
 And hear the night wind's sorrowing moan. 
 To see the lightnings cleave the sky, 
 And hear the thunder rattling by, 
 Is pleasure seldom known. 
 
 My country, such are thine alone ; 
 Thy wild flowers when in beauty blown, 
 Thy fields when drest in emerald green. 
 Or decked with dew-drops' silvery sheen, 
 Are like some wild and fairy glade 
 That's lone and Eden-like arrayed. 
 Where foliage clad in emerald gay 
 Alone is warmed by summer ray, 
 Freshened by summer showers. 
 
 It is a pleasure then to see 
 The sky from mists and darkness free. 
 To hear from some far distant shore 
 The sparkling water's ceaseless roar ; 
 M 
 
134 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 If SO, I call my native land, 
 Home of the beautiful and grand, 
 For its blue waters roll along, 
 And ever breathe a murmuring song 
 Of joyous melody. 
 
 And then again, at dawn of day, 
 Thy scenes how beautiful and gay ! 
 Thy lingering shades of twilight seem 
 Like tints in some bright fairy dream ; 
 And then to know that all we see. 
 And love, belong alone to thee, 
 Must make thee doubly dear. 
 
 My native land, I'll ever raise 
 My humble harp to sing thy praiee ; 
 And when its cords have ceased to thrill, 
 And this warm heart is cold and still, 
 Then I would lay me down and rest. 
 In peace, beneath thy bright, green breast, 
 My loved, my native land. 
 
 THE HUNTER OF THE HILLS. 
 
 The hunter was weary — all the day 
 He had roamed the woods and the meadows gay ; 
 He had tracked the deer to the distant hill, 
 Which rang with the sound of his death-shot shrill. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 135 
 
 The eagle, from her eyrie high, 
 
 Had marked his course with piercing eye ; 
 
 The vulture heard his musket ring, 
 
 And soared away on tireless wing, 
 
 Far, far above the dizzy height, 
 
 O'er which the dun deer passed in flight ; 
 
 The shadows of the beech, that hung 
 
 His cabin o'er, were widely flung 
 
 O'er the green sward before his door, 
 
 Before his day's wild chase was o'er. 
 
 On the soft herbage he reclined, 
 
 And listened to the sighing wind, 
 
 The murmur of the falling stream. 
 
 Which glittered in the sunset beam, 
 
 The sighing of the forest trees, 
 
 The humming of the roving bees, 
 
 The wren's faint cry, the bittern's scream. 
 
 From their green nests along the stream. 
 
 The shadows of the evening hour 
 
 Grew heavier on the closing flower ; 
 
 The wild birds, in their mansions high. 
 
 Grew silent as the day went by ; 
 
 The housewife bee, with yellow store. 
 
 Flew to her hive beside the door. 
 
 The happy hunter sat, and gazed with beaming eye 
 Upon the golden tints that decked the evening sky, 
 While 'neath the rustic porch, where the vines their 
 shadows cast. 
 
136 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 His happy wife, with skillful hand, prepared their neat 
 
 repast ; 
 The light of love was in her eye, her cheek was bright 
 
 and fair, 
 And a wreath of blushing roses was shining in her hair ; 
 She caroled forth, in birdlike tones, a gentle, touching 
 
 lay. 
 One that had charmed the hunter's heart in youth's 
 
 unclouded day. 
 With fearful step and lisping tones, their first and only 
 
 boy 
 Is tottering o'er the grassy yard, in happy, childish joy ; 
 Now twining with his tiny hands a wreath his curls to 
 
 deck. 
 Then bounding forth with eager joy to clasp his fath- 
 er's neck. 
 The hunter gazed upon the scene, and breathed a 
 
 grateful sigh. 
 And with his sunburnt hand he dashed the tear-drops 
 
 from his eye, 
 He cast a grateful glance to heaven, from whence all 
 
 blessings come. 
 And thus, in accents clear and sweet, his evening 
 
 hymn he sung. 
 
 The kings of the earth lie down 
 With sorrowing hearts at night ; 
 
 Though they lay aside the crown, 
 All glistening with jewels bright, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 137 
 
 Yet visions dark and thoughts of pain 
 Flit o'er the dreaming monarch's brain. 
 
 The soldier on the field 
 
 Is proud when the victory's won ; 
 He loves to look on his glittering spoils, 
 
 And think what his sword has done ; 
 But there come to haunt his midnight dreams, 
 The widow's tears and orphan's screams. 
 
 Are the sailor's slumbers sweet, 
 
 On the stormy, roaring main. 
 When with sickened heart he meets 
 
 The midnight hurricane ? 
 Ah no, the startled seaboy on the deep 
 Cannot enjoy unbroken, quiet sleep. 
 
 But ne'er doth the coming night 
 
 Bring grief or care to me ; 
 I hear not the din of fight, 
 
 Nor the blasts of the roaring sea ; 
 Life's weary cares do never come 
 To visit with grief my rural home. 
 
 All blest in each other's love. 
 
 We live through each happy day ; 
 
 We have no wish to rove. 
 Nor from our cot to stray ; 
 
 Contented and happy, together we rest. 
 
 In love's embrace, in our downy nest. 
 M^ 
 
138 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Oh Lord, I fain would raise. 
 
 In gratitude to thee, 
 A simple song of praise 
 
 For all thy gifts to me. 
 Oh may we live in peace and love 
 Until we reach our home above. 
 
 MY GKANDMOTHER'S COT. 
 
 There are memories of youth which entwine round the 
 
 heart. 
 Though many bright visions and dreams may depart, 
 
 And fade like the dew-drops so bright ; 
 There are realized joys of our lifers early day, 
 Which only grow brighter as time wears away. 
 
 And beam with a holier light. 
 
 Thus, though dark clouds have shadowed my life's 
 
 early day. 
 And sorrows have darkened my path once so gay, 
 
 Sweet memories are lingering still. 
 Of the bright, sunny hours which in gladness I passed, 
 Ere a shadow of grief o'er my young heart was cast, 
 
 At my grandmother's cot 'neath the hill. 
 
 It stood in the midst of a green sloping lawn, 
 Through which a bright streamlet was gliding along. 
 Where daisies and buttercups grew ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 139 
 
 'Twas shaded by lilacs and lofty old trees, 
 Which rocked to and fro in the evening breeze, 
 And shook from their bright leaves the dew. 
 
 'Twas hid in a covert of wild growing vines, 
 Intermingled with roses and sweet eglantine, 
 
 All radiant in spring's early bloom ; 
 The lily and snow-drop, with violets so sweet, 
 Which grew on the hedge of the garden walks neat, 
 
 Filled the air with a fragrant perfume. 
 
 How oft at the close of a hot summer day, 
 Worn out with fatigue, and weary with play, 
 
 Have I sat on the moss-covered sill. 
 And heard the soft winds as they played thro' the trees, 
 Or the wren's simple song from the low, sloping eaves 
 
 Of my grandmother's cot 'neath the hill. 
 
 While she sat in her arm-chair, so close by my side. 
 And gazed on my face with affectionate pride. 
 
 And smoothed back my dark, j9.owing hair, 
 While she spoke of the joys of her life's early day, 
 When her heart was like mine, unfettered and gay, 
 
 And her hopes were all blooming and fair. 
 
 My mem'ry reverts to those scenes with delight. 
 For my joy then was perfect, my hopes were all bright, 
 And I love to remember them still ; 
 
140 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Oh swiftly sped by the bright golden hours, 
 When I rambled amid the sunshine and flowers, 
 At my grandmother's cot 'neath the hill. 
 
 But those bright days are gone, they have all fled away, 
 And with them the joys of my life's early day. 
 
 And my heart now is weary and sad ; 
 A wreath of dark cypress encircles my brow, 
 And sorrow's dark strains are commingling now 
 
 With my song that once was so glad. 
 
 In the neat little garden where oft we have strayed, 
 In a sweet, silent spot 'neath the snowball tree's shade. 
 
 My grandmother peacefully rests ; 
 Above her the trees, which she loved, gently wave, 
 And throw their long shadows around her green grave. 
 
 And the flowers spring up on her breast. 
 
 Her voice, which spoke only in kindliest tone. 
 Her eye, where affection and love warmly shone, 
 
 Are silent and cold in the tomb. 
 Her heart's deep affection tongue never can tell ; 
 Since she left me, no other has loved me so well. 
 
 And my heart is oft shrouded in gloom. 
 
 The cottage still stands, but the vines are not green, 
 And the bright budding flowers are no more to be seen, 
 For old winter now reigns o'er the plain ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 141 
 
 But when warm, sunny spring sheds her genial ray, 
 They will flourish again all brightly and gay, 
 But her smile ne'er will cheer us again. 
 
 The fire on the hearth-stone burns bright, as of yore, 
 And throws its warm beams o'er the old oaken floor, 
 
 But, oh, there is one vacant seat ; 
 We miss the warm light of that soul-cheering smile, 
 That voice which could once all our sorrows beguile, 
 
 And lessons of wisdom repeat. 
 
 I love that sweet cottage as well as of yore, 
 
 Though many bright dreams of my childhood are o'er, 
 
 I spend happy moments there still ; 
 And when tears dim my eyes, and grief swells my 
 
 breast, 
 I seek its loved inmates, and always find rest 
 
 At my grandmother's cot 'neath the hill. 
 
 O'er the wide, wide world I may wander away. 
 And mix in the throng of the glad and the gay, 
 
 Where bright hope each bosom doth fill ; 
 But I never shall find a spot half so dear. 
 Or friends who shall prove to my bosom so near, 
 
 As those at the cot 'neath the hill. 
 
 Oh there I would live, and there I would die, 
 'Neath its sheltering roof I would breathe my last sigh , 
 And, when my heart throbbings are still. 
 
142 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 I would lie down and sleep in that calm, dreamless rest, 
 Undisturbed by life's cares in the earth's peaceful breast, 
 By my grandmother's cot 'neath the hill. 
 
 TO A FKIEND. 
 
 Dear friend, accept this as a pledge 
 Of friendship lasting, pure and true; 
 
 These lines are from the pen of one 
 Who ever will remember you. 
 
 In every time, in every place. 
 
 For your success my prayers ascend, 
 
 That God will keep you by his grace, 
 And prove your everlasting friend. 
 
 May all your days be fair and bright, 
 May pleasure's rays your path illume, 
 
 No sorrows e'er your pathway blight. 
 No wint'ry clouds your prospects gloom. 
 
 May you find friends where'er you go, 
 And bright as summer be your sky. 
 
 Until you reach that heavenly shore 
 Where love and friendship never die. 
 
 But, oh, should fortune prove unkind, 
 
 And prospects fade, and hopes decay, ;?p**tj; 
 
 % 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 143 
 
 Should sorrows crowd upon your mind, 
 In every case still " watch and pray." 
 
 Oh cast thy cares upon the Lord, 
 
 He will support and comfort thee, 
 For he has promised in his word 
 
 •* That as thy day, thy strength shall be." 
 
 Oh trust in him ; thy life shall be 
 As calm and bright as summer even ; 
 
 He'll soothe thy sorrows, calm thy woes. 
 And guide thy wandering steps to heaven. 
 
 THE FORSAKEN. 
 
 I watch for thee, when evening sheds 
 Her crimson light along the sky. 
 
 And gilds the fairy, floating clouds 
 With purple tints and golden dyes. 
 
 And when the lonely, silver moon, 
 
 Sheds her pale light o'er flower and tree, 
 
 When twinkling stars shine bright above. 
 In that lone hour I watch for thee. 
 
 But 'tis in vain ; thou comest not, 
 
 Though I have watched for thee so long. 
 
 And disappointment is my lot, 
 
 And sorrow mingles with my song. 
 
 # 
 
144 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Once I was glad, and free from care ; 
 
 My heart knew naught of sorrow's power ; 
 My eyes were bright, undimmed by tears, 
 
 And swiftly sped my gladsome hours. 
 
 But in those days of golden light 
 
 You cross'd my bright and happy way ; 
 
 Your manly form, and smiles so bright, 
 Soon won my heart then glad and gay. 
 
 But when I've learned to love thee well, 
 When my fond heart is wholly thine, 
 
 When, like the ivy round the oak, 
 
 My young affections round thee twine. 
 
 Oh thou hast coldly turned away. 
 And left me here to weep alone. 
 
 To watch my young hopes fade away. 
 And mourn my joys for ever gone. 
 
 In dark misfortune's stormy hour, 
 When foes unite, and friends are few, 
 
 When clouds of sorrow darkly lower, « 
 Then should my love have been most true. 
 
 If all the world had turned away, 
 
 And all thy hopes and joys had flown, 
 
 Then this unchanging heart of mine 
 Would gladly still have been thine own. 
 
 t 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 145 
 
 My love unchanging should have been, 
 In every place, in every time ; 
 
 But thou hast all unworthy proved, 
 And I no more may call thee mine. 
 
 Now we must part, to meet no more ; 
 
 My heart is true, but it is proud ; 
 Life's early confidence is o'er. 
 
 And hope has set behind a cloud. 
 
 Yes, leave me, and a face more fair, 
 A lovelier form may soon be thine ; 
 
 But thou wilt never, never find 
 
 A heart more true to thee, than mine. 
 
 But go, nor let me see again 
 
 That smile, love's treacherous token, 
 Lest I again resume my chain. 
 
 And this poor heart be broken. 
 
 CAN FRIENDS FORGET? ^^l 
 
 Can friends forget each other, 
 
 Can the heart's warm love decay ? 
 
 Can friendship's chain be broken, 
 Its brightness fade away ? 
 
 Can the heart's pure, early feelings 
 Sink to coldness and neglect, 
 
 N 
 
 'A 
 
 4r- 
 
146 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 And the heart, by love once lighted, 
 Its early vows reject? 
 
 The dreams of youth may perish, 
 The heart's young love decay. 
 
 And 'neath the blasts of cold neglect 
 For ever fade away. 
 
 But friendship's golden circlet 
 
 Can ne'er be rent in twain ; 
 Though storms may howl and tempests rave, 
 
 Unbroken 'twill remain. 
 
 When skies are dark and clouded, 
 
 It gilds the cheerless gloom ; 
 It smoothes our thorny pathway here. 
 
 And brightens up the tomb. 
 
 Its golden links to heaven reach. 
 
 And bind us to that shore 
 Where young love plumes his rosy wings, 
 
 Where sorrows come no more. 
 
 MY LOST FLOWER. 
 
 On a dull November evening. 
 
 When the rough winds whistled by, 
 
 And the clouds in leaden masses, 
 Hung darkly on the sky, 
 
 • 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 14*7 
 
 I wandered through the forest, 
 
 With slow and solemn tread, 
 While round me earth's once blooming things, 
 
 Were withered, cold and dead. 
 
 My heart was sad and weary 
 
 Of joys terrene and brief, 
 And the scene, so bleak and dreary, 
 
 Served to enhance my grief. 
 
 My joys were like the faded leaves 
 
 Which rustled 'neath my feet, 
 And not a cheering ray shone forth 
 
 My weary heart to greet. 
 
 When, lo, beneath a moss-grown rock, 
 
 Beside a snowbank cold, 
 I spied a little blue-eyed flower. 
 
 Hid in the watery mould. 
 
 It lifted up its tiny head 
 
 Amid the cheerless gloom. 
 Like smiling love o'er death's lone couch, 
 
 Or bright hope o'er the tomb. 
 
 It thrilled my being with new life, 
 With strength inspired my heart, 
 
 To struggle on through care and strife. 
 To act a noble part. 
 
 t 
 
148 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 There in that mossy solitude 
 
 Its beauties it disclosed, 
 And nestling in its azure bud, 
 
 Bright cheering hope reposed. 
 
 I plucked the lonely little flower, 
 And placed it near my heart, 
 
 Kesolving, as a treasured gem. 
 From it I ne'er would part. 
 
 But when I looked for it again, 
 My little flower was gone, 
 
 I sought it, but 'twas vain, and I 
 Was cheerless, sad and lone. 
 
 But never, surely, from my heart 
 Will time its memory blot ; 
 
 The lesson that sweet flow'ret taught 
 Will never be forgot. 
 
 It seemed to tell me, though my way 
 
 Is desolate and drear. 
 That brighter days will dawn for me. 
 
 And skies more calm and clear ; 
 
 And that in this cold, heartless world 
 
 I yet may see the time 
 When friendship true will gild my way, 
 
 And loving hearts be mine. 
 
 • 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 149 
 
 THE MOONLIGHT RAINBOW. 
 
 'Twas evening, the sky was transcendently bright, 
 And hushed was the wandering breeze ; 
 
 The chaste bride of night unveiled her pale light, 
 And silvered the flowers and trees. 
 
 No sound could be heard, all nature was still, 
 Save the streamlet that murmured along, 
 
 Or the lone whippoorwill, from a neighboring hill. 
 As she piped forth her evening song. 
 
 But far on the verge of the blue summer sky, 
 A dense cloud rose dark and increased ; 
 
 Like a banner unfurled, it spread o'er the world, 
 Till its margin of black touched the east. 
 
 It grew till it burst, and from its dark breast 
 A flood of bright jewels came down ; 
 
 The woodlands grew bright, and reflected their light, 
 As in brightness they glistened around. 
 
 "When, lo! on the verge of the ebony cloud, 
 Lighted up by the moon's fairy beams, 
 
 Came a beautiful form, in the van of the storm. 
 And made perfect the fairy-like scene. 
 
 Like smiles beaming thro' tears, or hope 'mid despair. 
 It spanned the blue dome of the skies ; 
 
 The earth grew more fair, as it hung on the air. 
 And shed down its emerald dyes. 
 
150 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 'Twas a beauteous vision inscribed on the cloud, 
 
 A token of promise from God, 
 A spirit of love, sent down from above, 
 
 To gladden this tear-laden sod. 
 
 With a radiant glow, it illumed its dark path, 
 
 As brighter and brighter it grew, 
 'Twas a coronal bright, on the brow of old night, 
 
 Of rosetints and violet hue. 
 
 'Twas the ' ' rainbow," that beautiful child of the 
 skies. 
 
 That token of heavenly peace, 
 Inscribed on the cloud by the hand of the Lord, 
 
 As a promise that tempests shall cease. 
 
 Awhile, like the visions of youth's early morn, 
 It gladdened the earth with its light, 
 
 Then like hopes on the wing, or the flowers of spring, 
 It faded away from the sight. 
 
 The cloud disappeared, and the bright silver moon 
 Calmly rolled through her pathway of blue ; 
 
 And woodland and bower, tree, leaflet and flower, 
 Were radiant with bright gems of dew. 
 
 But the form of that bow ne'er forgotten will be. 
 
 As it hung on the evening sky ; 
 It spoke of that home where no sorrow can come. 
 
 And tear drops for ever are dry. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 151 
 
 Oh who would not leave this sin-stricken world, 
 
 This region of sorrow and strife, 
 And fly to that home, where the ransomed ones roam, 
 
 On the banks of the river of life ! 
 
 Where rainbows of beauty for ever shall beam, 
 O'er those wide-spreading flowery plains. 
 
 Where no wintery gloom blights spring's early bloom , 
 Where bright glory eternally reigns. 
 
 KEMEMBRANCE. 
 
 Chilled by misfortune's wint'ry blast. 
 Life's early dawn is overcast, 
 Love, hope and joy alike, adieu, 
 "Would I could add remembrance too. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 Remembrance too ! oh would that I 
 Could think no more of days gone by ; 
 Their hopes and joys come not again. 
 Why should their memory remain ? 
 
 In vain o'er my distracted soul 
 I bid the lethean waves to roll ; 
 I would forget the happy past, 
 Since shadows o'er my heart are cast. 
 
 Ye once loved dreams, depart, depart. 
 Disturb no more this aching heart ; 
 Since naught but grief and care remain, 
 I would not live ye o'er again. 
 
^ 
 
 152 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 The memory of your radiant light, 
 Which made my life's young morning bright, 
 But makes more dark the wintery cloud 
 Which doth my dreary way enshroud. 
 
 My sky is dimmed by care and strife, 
 And every breeze with woe is rife ; 
 My golden hopes in gloom are set, 
 And all I ask, is to forget. 
 
 CARELESS WORDS. 
 
 How often by an unkind glance, 
 A careless sentence, idly spoken, 
 
 Have trusting hearts been all estranged. 
 And love's first confidence been broken. 
 
 The heart that, 'neath the tempest's power. 
 Would still have been true and unchanged, 
 
 May wither 'neath some idle word, 
 And soon become cold and estranged. 
 
 'Tis not the great events of life 
 
 On which our destinies depend ; 
 A word, a " trifle light as air," 
 
 Our future lives with grief may blend. 
 
 There's many a deep and hidden grief 
 
 Which springs from words and trifles light. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 153 
 
 From things of which we dare not speak, 
 And yet our very hearts they blight. 
 
 Link after link is fastened on, 
 
 And firmly wound about the heart. 
 In secrecy, until their power 
 
 More fatal proves than sorrow's open dart. 
 
 They prey upon the spirit, till the bloom 
 Of hope is changed for fever's hectic flush ; 
 
 They break the charm of youth's first early dream, 
 The heart's young hope and confidence they crush. 
 
 Oh, then, how very careful should we be, 
 That from our lips no careless sentence fall, 
 
 To wound some gentle trusting, loving heart, 
 And which in time we gladly would recall. 
 
 THE WARRIOR'S JOYS. 
 
 The morning sun shines brightly 
 
 Far o'er the battle plain. 
 And, Warrior, still thou sleepest — 
 
 Wake! and take thy steed again. 
 
 His main, which once was stiff with gore, 
 
 Again is waving fast 
 Upon the balmy morning breeze. 
 
 Amid the battle blast. 
 
154 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Thrice hath the war peal thundered by 
 Since thou didst sink to sleep, 
 
 Hath it not roused thee from thy dreams, 
 Nor broke thy slumbers deep ? 
 
 Far o'er the plain the banners red 
 Are streaming, proud and fair ; 
 
 And martial music, loud and clear, 
 Floats on the morning air. 
 
 The warriors brave are all equipped, 
 Their white plumes nodding high, 
 
 And spear and lance, and sabre bright, 
 Are flashing on the sky. 
 
 The drum's deep voice, the trumpet's clang, 
 
 The morning stillness break. 
 And here thy gallant war-steed stands, — 
 
 Wake, slumbering warrior, wake I 
 
 Hush, stranger ! hush your wild request, 
 
 A weeping maiden sung. 
 And sadly on the sighing winds, 
 
 Her mournful accents rung. 
 
 Hush stranger ! hush your wild request, 
 
 My heart is lone and sear ; 
 You cannot wake my warrior love. 
 
 Who sleeps in silence here. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 155 
 
 I've combed his glossy raven curls, 
 
 And from them wiped the dew, 
 But lifeless is his noble heart, 
 
 Which throbbed so warm and true ; 
 
 And dim and glossy is his eye 
 
 Which once so brightly shone ; 
 He was my life, my hope, my all, 
 
 And now I'm sad and lone. 
 
 Come look upon his features pale, 
 
 So late in youthful bloom. 
 And think upon his star of hope 
 
 So early set in gloom. 
 
 And if thy bosom e'er hath throbbed 
 
 The warrior's joys to know. 
 Oh read them on his pallid cheek, 
 
 And in my bitter woe. 
 
 HAPPINESS. 
 
 This world has its pleasures as well as its fears. 
 And smiles are oft beaming thro' sorrow's big tears ; 
 Though our hearts may to-day be clouded with sorrow, 
 The sunshine of joy will gild them to-morrow. 
 
 This earth hath its bright spots, its seasons of joy ; 
 Though dull cares may oft times our pleasures alloy, 
 
156 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Yet hope singeth sweetly and gladdens the heart, 
 Though sorrow's bright tear from the eye oft may start. 
 
 Tell me not there is nothing but grief here below, 
 That the heart must throb always with sorrow and woe, 
 That the joys of life will all fade away. 
 And the blossoms of hope for ever decay. 
 
 The bliss of true friendship will gladden the soul, 
 Though the waves of misfortune around us may roll, 
 And love, true and sincere, will light up the gloom, 
 And spread its bright wings o'er the verge of the tomb. 
 
 And he that hath dried the orphan's sad tears. 
 And calmed and assuaged the lone widow's fears, 
 Will feel in his bosom that heavenly joy 
 Which the cares of this world can never destroy. 
 
 Though our sky may be veiled with clouds dark and 
 
 drear. 
 Behind them the sun shines still brightly and clear, 
 And pleasures will oft times our sorrows beguile. 
 For the tear scarcely starts ere 'tis lost in a smile. 
 
 This earth has its bright spots, its scenes of delight. 
 And the heart that is saddest must sometimes feel 
 
 light ; 
 Though the seasons of joy may be fleeting and brief, 
 There is more here to live for than sorrow and grief. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 157 
 
 And, oh, could we pass over life's clouded hours, 
 
 And revel amid its sunshine and flowers, 
 
 Many a tear would be spared, many a sigh be un- 
 
 breathed, 
 And the brow, often clouded, with smiles would be 
 
 wreathed. 
 
 Could we look from the clouds that hang darkly above, 
 To Him who reigns o'er them in goodness and love. 
 And trust in his word, which to guide us is given. 
 We should feel in our hearts a foretaste of heaven. 
 
 THE AUTUMN BIRD'S SONG. 
 
 I haste on the wings of the morning air, 
 
 For a farewell flight I have nerved my wing ; 
 
 I go from the hills that are cold and sear, 
 To follow the path of emerald spring. 
 
 The leaves are dead in the woodland glade, 
 And my song is hushed in the lady's bower, 
 
 And amid the flowers, all withering laid, 
 In silence she passes her evening hour. 
 
 For the robes of spring are faded and dim, 
 And the velvet leaves are cold and sear. 
 
 All withered they fall from the waving limb. 
 And beauty and joy no longer appear. 
 
 
 
158 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 I have flown o'er the stream, and through the lone vale, 
 I've gone where the woodbine its tendrils twine 
 
 To my favorite haunt, but its leaves are all pale. 
 And its blossoming buds no longer I find. 
 
 I have called from the weeping willow's bough, 
 
 From the drooping leaves, with their death -like look ; 
 
 But I heard no sound, save the chilly blow, 
 Or the murmuring song of the shadowy brook. 
 
 I've called, but my mate-birds answer me not. 
 No more 'mid the bowers are they to be seen ; 
 
 They have winged their way to a summer spot, 
 
 Where the flowers are bright, and the fields are 
 green. 
 
 I have gazed on the hills, and the forest shade. 
 And faintly traced the spirit of spring ; 
 
 But where are the flowers which round her played, 
 And the zephyrs which fanned her golden wing? 
 
 The bubbling stream with sunbeams tipt, 
 Where the sky is seen in its mirror deep. 
 
 Where the wild ones hovered, and lilies dipt, 
 Is hushed and still in a death -like sleep. 
 
 And man is forth in his forest sport, 
 In the silent deep of the woody shade. 
 
 And the forest rings with a death report, 
 
 And it echoes back through the lonely glade. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 159 
 
 I'll follow bright spring to another clime, 
 Where the half blown rose a fragrance hath, 
 
 Where the sunbeams dance through the waving vines, 
 And the hill streams leap o'er their bubbly path. 
 
 From the grassy plains and the sycamore, 
 I'll revel wild in the sunbeams bright, 
 
 I'll wake my song as the zephyrs pour, 
 And breathe my notes in the golden light. 
 
 There the rose-bush springs with its budding flowers, 
 
 Where Flora's bowers are gaily filled, 
 Where time gives joy to the fleeting hours, 
 
 And golden rays the hill tops gild ; 
 I will hasten away from this cheerless gloom, 
 To where spring reigns in perennial bloom. 
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 
 
 'Tis sweet to wander back through youth's bright way, 
 All strewn with pleasure's brightly blooming flowers. 
 
 To ponder o'er the joys of other days, 
 
 When smiling hope illumed the passing hours. 
 
 How all the joys of life's bright early morn, 
 
 At recollection's magic call appear ; 
 The rose of youth is seen without its thorn. 
 
 Through the dim vista of departed years. 
 
160 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 How all the visions of our childhood bright 
 Steal back again with all their potent sway, 
 
 Fill the lone heart with long unfelt delight, 
 
 With all the bounding bliss of life's young day. 
 
 How true will memory's faithful pencil trace, 
 And fancy's magic shadow to our view, 
 
 The glowing features of each smiling face, 
 Which in the morning of our life we knew ; 
 
 When, with a bounding step, we sought the shade, 
 Or sat the spreading oak and beech beneath. 
 
 Or wildly sported o'er the summer glade. 
 
 And twined of wild flowers many a May-day wreath ; 
 
 When oft we wandered o'er the valleys green. 
 
 Where spring her brightest, fairest flowers give birth, 
 
 While mountain, wooded cliff*, and wild ravine. 
 Were echoing with our bosom's gladsome mirth. 
 
 Oh yes ! 'tis sweet, to view again those scenes. 
 Though passed away on times dark rolling main ; 
 
 Tho' crushed and blighted are youth's fondest dreams. 
 It soothes the heart to live them o'er again. 
 
 When standing sadly o'er the lonely mound 
 
 Which covers from our sight a cherished friend. 
 
 When sorrow clouds the heart in midnight gloom. 
 And hope and joy no more our steps attend; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 161 
 
 Then faithful memory bears upon its wing 
 
 Sweet thoughts to calm and cheer the troubled heart, 
 
 To soothe and soften sorrow's poignant sting. 
 And dry the tears which from the eye-lids start. 
 
 It bears us back to sunny days long gone, 
 
 When friendship filled our hearts with radiant light, 
 
 When hope and joy were in their early bloom. 
 
 And love's warm sunshine made our pathway bright. 
 
 Again we hear the lost one's gentle voice. 
 Again we see the bright and sunny smile, 
 
 The silvery laugh which made the heart rejoice, 
 And oft was wont our sorrows to beguile. 
 
 The cheek is wet with friendship's burning tears. 
 Again we're circled in love's warm embrace. 
 
 The gladsome tones of other days we hear. 
 And see aa;ain the smile-illumined face. 
 
 "&' 
 
 Oh memory ! wide and boundless are thy joys ; 
 
 Thou art a changeless, true, abiding friend; 
 E'en fleeting time cannot thy power destroy, 
 
 Thou stay'st when all else bright is at an end. 
 
 Young love may spread his pinions for a while, 
 And gild our pathway with his sunny ray. 
 
 But like the early flowers, or spring's capricious smile, 
 How soon on truant wing he hies away. 
 0^ 
 
162 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Bright hope may fondly nestle in the heart, 
 And with his rays illume the fleeting hours ; 
 
 But soon on time's rough tide he will depart, 
 Or fade away like summer's early flowers. 
 
 But memory, faithful memory, still will stay, 
 When love and hope have left our lonely bowers, 
 
 And lead us back through childhood's sunny ways, 
 And strew our pathway with departed flowers. 
 
 'Tis true it sometimes wakens in the heart 
 Scenes we fain would have in oblivion lie, 
 
 Which cause the tear of grief unbid to start. 
 And heave the bosom with a mournful sigh. 
 
 Yet memory is a changeless, faithful friend. 
 And passes over many clouded hours ; 
 
 When love and hope no more our steps attend. 
 He strews our pathway with departed flowers. 
 
 HOPE 
 
 When first creation's work was done. 
 And morning stars together sung, 
 When o'er the new-made hill tops bright 
 The youthful sun poured down his light ; 
 In Eden's garden bright and fair. 
 Where roamed the happy, sinless pair, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 163 
 
 Where flow' rets grew in changeless bloom, 
 
 And zephyrs wafted their perfume 
 
 Like incense to the azure skies 
 
 That smiled o'er blooming Paradise ; 
 
 Where proud Euphrates rolled along, 
 
 With rippling music in its song, 
 
 And noble Gihon swept around 
 
 With yet a wilder, deeper sound, — 
 
 Close by the blooming tree of life. 
 
 Where every breeze with bliss was rife, 
 
 A flow'ry throne in beauty hung, 
 
 Where roses crept and woodbines clung, 
 
 Where bright- winged songsters waked their praise 
 
 In matin notes and vesper lays. 
 
 And from the bright ethereal skies, 
 With glittering robes of rainbow dyes, 
 Bright Hope, the fairest child of heaven, 
 The first best friend to mortals given, 
 Came down from her bright starlit home, 
 And reigned upon that rosy throne. 
 Around her brow of matchless white 
 Was twined a glittering chaplet bright, 
 And o'er her shoulder, wildly flung, 
 A glittering lyre in beauty hung ; 
 And from its magic chords of gold. 
 Celestial music gently rolled ; 
 It floated 'mid the blooming flowers. 
 And echoed through the greenwood bowers, 
 
164 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Resounded o'er the flowery plains, 
 Until the wild birds caught the strains, 
 And smiling dell and woodland gay 
 Were echoing with the heavenly lay. 
 
 Adam and Eve, in Eden's bowers. 
 In gladness passed the golden hours ; 
 Now tilled the flowers, now widely strayed 
 Through leafy bower, o'er sunny glade, 
 In youthful innocence and love, 
 With hearts as pure as those above, 
 'Neath ever smiling, cloudless skies 
 Enjoyed the sweets of Paradise, 
 Blest owners of the garden green. 
 And bright-eyed Hope their smiling queen. 
 
 But hark ! how changed the blissful sight. 
 Which lately smiled in beauty bright, 
 Black clouds are lowering dense and low. 
 All nature wears a look of woe. 
 The birds have hushed their merry song. 
 The zephyrs sadly sigh along, 
 The flow'rets lose their golden hue. 
 And weep bright tears of crystal dew. 
 Bright Hope has hushed her golden lyre, 
 Which rang with sweet seraphic fire ; 
 She sees the storms which darkly lower. 
 And leaves her blooming roseate bower. 
 With pallid cheek and streaming eyes 
 Flies shrieking to the upper skies. 
 
All nature weeps in bitter woe, 
 And rocks in anguish to and fro. 
 Thrice hapless Eve the law has broke, 
 Creation feels the bitter stroke ; 
 Justice now draws his flaming sword. 
 To avenge God's trampled, broken word ; 
 But Mercy pleads, in touching strain, 
 To let them live, nor pleads in vain ; 
 Justice his weapon lays to rest, 
 And grants sweet Mercy her request. 
 
 Now from their blissful Eden home 
 The hapless pair are doomed to roam, 
 No more to wander through its bowers. 
 Nor pluck its sweet ambrosial flowers. 
 But doomed, with ceaseless toil and pain, 
 A home in other lands to gain. 
 
 High from her mansion in the skies, 
 Bright Hope looks down with pitying eyes, 
 Beholds the hapless wanderers' woe, 
 As on their weary way they go ; 
 Quickly she spreads her pinions bright, 
 And leaves her home of golden light, 
 Earthward she flies with eager haste, 
 To cheer and gild this lonely waste ; 
 The sorrowing wanderers she pursues, 
 And gilds their path with golden hues, 
 She soothes their sorrows, calms their fears. 
 And dries with tender hand their tears ; 
 
166 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Attuning then her golden lyre 
 To strains of sweet celestial fire, 
 Pours forth wild music, soft and clear, 
 Glad strains the heart of man to cheer ; 
 From hill to hill the echoes roll, 
 From tropic bright to frozen pole. 
 Old ocean, as he sweeps along, 
 Catches the music of the song, 
 And zephyrs, murmuring as they go, 
 Join in the never-ceasing flow ; 
 The birdlings, in their joyous round, 
 Repeat the blissful, cheering sound ; 
 E'en man himself has caught the lay. 
 And chants it through the golden day; 
 All nature joins the blissful song, 
 As gladsomely it floats along, 
 Till smiling hill and flow'ry plain 
 Are echoing with Hopes cheering strain. 
 
 Another change o'er earth has pass'd, 
 And shadows darker still are cast 
 In gloomy silence o'er the plains. 
 Where vice and superstition reign. 
 Gross Ignorance, with frightful mien. 
 Flaps his black pinions o'er the scene. 
 Breathes o'er the land his blighting breath. 
 Which wakens Misery, Sin and Death, 
 Who stalk about with giant strides, 
 Till universal woe presides. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 167 
 
 Grim Murder wakes his bloody train, 
 And sounds his death-notes o'er the plain ; 
 With deadl}?^ weapons rampant War 
 Rides proudly in his fiery car. 
 
 Mercy and Peace no longer stay, 
 On viewless wings they've fled away, 
 All, all have left the guilty plains. 
 But Hope the charmer still remains ; 
 Her warbling lyre is sad and low. 
 Its cords breathe naught but grief and woe ; 
 But still, with heart and purpose true. 
 She stays to cheer the " faithful few," 
 To win their hearts from sorrow's ways. 
 And sing to them of brighter days. 
 
 Jehovah with a frowning eye. 
 Looks from his royal throne on high. 
 Beholds man's actions base and vile, 
 His heart all seared with sin and guile ; 
 He sees him lift his hand to slay. 
 And take his brother's life away, — 
 Man formed for holiness and love. 
 All guilty and rebellious prove. 
 
 His righteous anger grows apace ; 
 He resolves to slay the guilty race. 
 Throws open heaven's flood-gates wide, 
 Down rushes the impetuous tide ; 
 Naught now the sinning ones can save, 
 The earth is all one watery grave. 
 
168 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 But Hope still lingers 'mid the gloom, 
 She soars above the deluged tomb, 
 Lights up the prospect drear and dark. 
 And spreads her wings o'er Noah's ark. 
 There, though the tempest rages long. 
 She warbles forth a cheering song, 
 Which echoes wide, from pole to pole, 
 Though angry waters madly roll. 
 
 The clouds are gone, the tempest's o'er. 
 The blighting rains descend no more, 
 The waters dark have fled away, 
 Before the winds and sunbeams gay. 
 Bright Hope now soars on tireless wing. 
 The hill tops with her music ring ; 
 She carols out her gladsome lay, 
 Amid the olive's branches gay. 
 From which the dove, when storms were o'er, 
 To Noah's ark the leaflet bore. 
 
 Again she spreads her pinions bright, 
 And revels in the golden light. 
 Where, glittering on the smiling sky, 
 The new-made rainbow greets the eye, 
 Jehovah's vow of love and peace. 
 His token that the storms shall cease ; 
 She perches on this arching throne. 
 Which widely spans the azure dome. 
 And from her wild and witching lyre 
 Pours forth sweet strains of heavenly fire ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 169 
 
 O'er earth's broad plains thej gladly ring, 
 And sunbeams smile and flow'rets spring ; 
 Soft, silken zephyrs sweetly blow, 
 Bright gushing rills and streamlets flow, 
 And nature, late in midnight gloom, 
 Now gaily smiles in roseate bloom. 
 Again man rules the emerald plains, 
 And smiling Hope, his goddess, reigns. 
 
 'Tis night, and o'er the landscape bright 
 The silver moon pours down her light ; 
 The stars are twinkling, bright and gay, 
 In heaven's blue ether far away. 
 No sound is heard, dark silence reigns 
 O'er verdant mount and flow'ry plains, 
 Save when the zephyrs whisper by, 
 Or the lone night-bird wakes her cry. 
 
 Beneath a stable's lowly shed. 
 The manger for his cradle bed, 
 An infant boy, with smiling face, 
 Is wrapt in slumber's soft embrace. 
 No downy pillows press his head, 
 No silken curtains shade his bed ; 
 There comes no strain from all the earth 
 To celebrate his lowly birth. 
 Upon his bed of straw he lies. 
 Soft slumbers seal his infant eyes ; 
 His mother, with maternal joy. 
 Is watching o'er her sleeping boy, 
 P 
 
170 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 But hark ! whence come those heavenly strains, 
 Soft stealing o'er the nightly plains ; 
 Those radiant floods of glorious light, 
 Which beam with golden splendor bright ? 
 A glorious halo now is shed 
 Around the sleeping infant's head, 
 And heavenly music, soft and clear, 
 Falls on the mother's ravished ear. 
 Grlorious cherubic bands have come 
 Down from their glittering, golden home, 
 To echo forth o'er all the earth 
 The tidings of the infant's birth. 
 
 High thro' the ethereal regions bright 
 They spread their wings of golden light, 
 And echo forth in rapturous lays 
 Their glorious songs of love and praise ; 
 Spread far and wide the rapturous theme, 
 Jesus is born in Bethlehem. 
 
 Athwart the ebon brow of night 
 Now shoots a golden meteor bright; 
 The shepherds on the distant plains 
 Are listening to the heavenly strains ; 
 They see the star, and haste away, 
 Still guided by its heavenly ray, 
 Until they reach the lowly shed 
 'Neath which the infant Prince is laid. 
 
 Bright Hope now hovers o'er the scene, 
 Her brow is wreathed with living green, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 171 
 
 Her glittering garments gently flow, 
 As silken zephyrs round her blow ; 
 Upon the breeze her lyre is hung, 
 Its every cord to music strung ; 
 She sweeps her fingers o'er its strings, 
 And thus the heaven-born anthem sings. 
 
 Good will on earth, and peace to men, 
 Jesus is born at Bethlehem ; 
 Learn it, ye streamlets, as ye flow, 
 Bear it, ye breezes, as ye blow. 
 Till heaven and earth repeat the song, 
 Jesus the Son of God is born. 
 
 Soft from her glittering cords of gold 
 The heavenly music gently rolled, 
 'Twas wafted on the whispering breeze, 
 It floated through the waving trees, 
 Till smiling dell and mountain green 
 Were echoing with the glorious theme. 
 
 Again the god of evening reigns. 
 And throws his mantle o'er the plains ; 
 The mourning night- winds sadly sigh. 
 The moon looks down with weeping eye, 
 The flow'rets droop their dewy leaves. 
 And nature all in silence grieves. 
 
 Beneath a garden's shadowy trees, 
 Where sadly roves the evening breeze, 
 A lovely Being lowly kneels, 
 As down his cheek a tear-drop steals ; 
 
172 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Big drops of sweat stand on his brow, 
 His voice is plaintive, sad and low, 
 As thus his agonizing prayer 
 Is wafted on the stilly air, 
 " Father, look down with pitying eye, 
 Oh let this bitter cup pass by ; 
 But not my will, but thine be done." 
 Thus pleads the great eternal Son, 
 Thus Jesus — 'neath the shades of night. 
 Where softly steals the moon's pale light. 
 While man is wrapt in sleep profound — 
 Is kneeling on the cold, damp ground. 
 And sending up his fervent prayer 
 For strength his bitter lot to bear. 
 
 Heart-rending scene ! — The Son of God 
 Kneels lowly on earth's guilty sod ; 
 The angels, from the lofty skies. 
 Look down with wondering, weeping eyes; 
 All nature mourns in anguish deep. 
 But man is wrapt in downy sleep. 
 
 Bright Hope in anguish hovers near,% 
 Her bosom sadly heaves with fear ; 
 But from her glittering lyre of gold 
 Strange, mingled sounds of music roll, 
 Which, though they breathe deep sorrow's lays. 
 Seem whispering of brighter days. 
 
 The scene has changed, — black darkness reigns 
 In gloomy silence o'er the plains; 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 173 
 
 The golden sun is veiled in clouds, 
 
 And midnight gloom the earth enshrouds; 
 
 The mountains are to atoms riven, 
 
 Deep thunders shake the vault of heaven, 
 
 The pallid nations of the dead 
 
 Are starting from their dusty bed ; — 
 
 The Son of Grod, 'twixt earth and sky, 
 
 Upon the cross is doomed to die. 
 
 Though darkness reigns, and thunders roll. 
 And shake the globe from pole to pole, 
 Yet Hope her golden harp still wakes. 
 And o'er the hills the echo breaks, 
 Above the thunder's voice it flies, 
 " Man now may live, since Jesus dies." 
 
 The scene is o'er, the thunders cease, 
 The raging storm has sunk to peace. 
 The sun's bright rays disperse the gloom. 
 But Jesus slumbers in the tomb. 
 
 Now weeping Hope her vigil keeps 
 Where the Redeemer lowly sleeps, 
 And from her golden harp-strings flow. 
 Strains of the wildest, deepest woe. 
 
 But lo! he bursts death's iron chain, 
 Comes forth, and lives on earth again. 
 Now smiling Hope soars far above, 
 And warbles forth her strains of love ; 
 Her lyre with sweeter music rings 
 Than e'er before had waked its strings, 
 P^ 
 
174 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 And echoes wide the glorious strain, 
 Jesus, though slain, now lives again. 
 Man is redeemed ; his ransom paid, 
 The atoning sacrifice is made. 
 The glorious victory is won, 
 By God's great co-eternal Son. 
 
 Louder and sweeter grew the song, 
 And wider still it rolled along ; 
 It spoke of rapturous bliss and love. 
 Of golden mansions far above. 
 Where never-fading flow' rets bloom. 
 And zephyrs waft their sweet perfume, 
 High o'er the bright and flow'ry plains 
 Where day eternal brightly reigns ; 
 Where sin and death are both unknown, 
 And care and sorrow never come ; 
 Where blighting age steals not away 
 From blooming cheeks, youth's roses gay; 
 Where garlands of eternal green 
 On every brow in beauty beam ; 
 Where tear-drops never dim the eye. 
 And all unheard is sorrow's sigh ; 
 Where friends in bliss and love may dwell, 
 And never hear the sound, "farewell." 
 
 More sweet the heavenly music grew, 
 As o'er the ransomed hills it flew ; 
 The streamlets, as they swept along, 
 Were rippling out the gladsome song ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 175 
 
 'Twas wafted on the gentle breeze, 
 And echoed through the forest trees, 
 Till man the new-born anthem caught, 
 With heavenly bliss and glory fraught. 
 And chanted forth, in rapturous lays, 
 A Te Deimi to his Maker's praise. 
 
 And still bright Hope her empire holds, 
 And still her heavenly music rolls. 
 O'er all the earth in anthems clear, 
 The grief- worn heart of man to cheer; 
 She soothes his sorrows, dries his tears, 
 Dispels his gloom, and calms his fears, 
 And guides his steps, by tempests driven, 
 Up to his glorious home in heaven. 
 
 Beside the cheerless couch of death. 
 Where loved ones stand with shortened breath, 
 To catch the last faint farewell sigh, 
 The fond glance from the tearful eye 
 Of one they loved in youth's bright day, 
 Who trod with them life's thorny way ; 
 Whose changeless love has cheered the heart, 
 When sorrow shot his deadliest dart ; 
 Whose gentle hand has dried their tears, 
 Whose tender voice has calmed their fears, 
 Who through the chequered scenes of youth 
 Has loved them with unchanging truth. 
 
 Death sets his icy signet now 
 Upon the pale and faded brow. 
 
176 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 From the cold cheek the rose-bud flies, 
 The brightness leaves the languid eyes ; 
 The spirit now must leave its home, 
 On far off unknown shores to roam. 
 And fell despair its shadows rolls, 
 In darkness o'er the parting soul. 
 
 But Hope, bright Hope, dispels the gloom. 
 And gilds the portals of the tomb; 
 Before her darkness flies away 
 Like dew-drops 'neath the morning ray ; 
 She tears the misty veil aside, 
 Which heaven's unfading glory hides, 
 And bursting on the eager gaze. 
 Celestial glories brightly blaze ; 
 And then she wakes her golden lyre, 
 And breathes forth strains of heavenly fire, 
 Which, as in rapturous notes they roll, 
 Inspire and cheer the parting soul ; 
 Which gladly leaves its house of clay, 
 And soars from earthly cares away. 
 Borne up on Hope's fair pinions bright, 
 Enters the realms of golden light. 
 
 Upon the stormy battle ground, 
 Where death and carnage reign around, 
 Where fiery war-clouds darkly loom. 
 And lightnings break the sullen gloom ; 
 When trumpets clang and sabres flash, 
 And deep-mouthed cannons loudly crash ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 177 
 
 When grim-eyed Murder stalks along, 
 And chants aloud his dismal song ; 
 When weeping Peace flies from the plains, 
 Then Hope, undaunted, still remains. 
 
 She perches on the banner red, 
 Which streams above the slaughtered dead, 
 And from her lyre's bright golden strings 
 Inspiring strains she wildly rings. 
 Which, rolling 'bove the drum's loud peal. 
 And clashing of the glittering steel. 
 Inspire the bosom with new life. 
 And nerve the arm for deadly strife. 
 Led by her hand, the gallant few 
 Rush bravely on, the contest through. 
 Their fearless ranks for strife arrayed. 
 With hearts all firm and undismayed. 
 They wave their glittering sabres high, 
 And vow for liberty to die. 
 
 Far, far away upon the hoary deep, 
 Where angry waves in sullen silence sleep. 
 Where not a golden ray of summer smiles 
 O'er frozen seas and ice-bespangled isles ; 
 Where dreary Winter flaps his dusky wings. 
 And o'er the wilds his shrill alarum rings ; 
 O'er far Atlantic's weather-beaten shore. 
 Where tempests howl and angry billows roar ; 
 On rolling waves the seaman rides afar, 
 Dark, leaden clouds conceal the polar star, 
 
178 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 With naught to guide his course o'er waters dark, 
 
 In cheerless gloom now gropes his little bark. 
 
 Around him, loud and chill, the breezes blow ; 
 
 From Greenland's heights of everlasting snow 
 
 The storm god jflaps his pinions o'er the wave, 
 
 And points the wanderer to a watery grave ; 
 
 And mermaids, from their ocean caves below, 
 
 Attune their harps to strains of wildest woe. 
 
 Midnight despair now fills his aching heart, 
 
 And from his eye the bitter tear-drops start. 
 
 Poor child of danger in the wint'ry storm, 
 
 Wild are the woes that wreck his manly form ; 
 
 The raging winds his fated bark delay, 
 
 His heart is sad, his home is far away. 
 
 But Hope, bright child of heaven, the waves explores. 
 
 And wanders e'en to ocean's wildest shores ; 
 
 She wakes her witching lyre above the deep. 
 
 And charms the raging elements to sleep ; 
 
 She nestles fondly on the wanderer's breast, 
 
 And lulls his heart's repinings all to rest. 
 
 Sings sweetly of his ftir off distant land. 
 
 His rural cottage, smiling household band; 
 
 Each gentle voice, and kind, familiar face. 
 
 His children's kisses, and his wife's embrace. 
 
 All rush on pinions fleeting as the wind, 
 
 And fill with joy his sorrow-stricken mind. 
 
 In every changing scene of life, 
 In nature's wildest, fiercest strife. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 179 
 
 When naught but grief and sorrow reigns, 
 Bright Hope unchanging, still remains. 
 
 Young love may leave the aching heart. 
 And swift on truant wing depart ; 
 The flowers of friendship may decay, 
 And peace and joy no longer stay ; 
 All, all may leave the cheerless mind, 
 But Hope will linger still behind. 
 
 Unlike the rest, in griefs dark hour, 
 When clouds of sorrow darkly lower, 
 When foes unite and friends are few. 
 Her smiles are ever warm and true ; 
 Man's earliest, brightest, warmest friend, 
 She ever will his steps attend ; 
 Her heavenly strains will cheer his soul. 
 When adverse winds around him roll. 
 
 Long as the moon shall roll on high. 
 And stars bedeck the azure sky ; 
 Long as the sun with golden blaze. 
 Shall brighten nature with his rays ; 
 Long as the silken zephys blow. 
 And murmuring streamlets gently flow ; 
 Long as old ocean sweeps along. 
 And echoes wide his roaring song, 
 Bright Hope shall wave her scepter high, 
 And reign the queen of earth and sky. 
 
 When nature's works shall fade away, 
 And all the rolling orbs decay ; 
 
180 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 When with a dim and faded eye, 
 
 The sun shall wander through the sky ; 
 
 When wrapt in flames the sky shall glow. 
 
 And thunders shake the earth below, 
 
 Then o'er creation's mighty fire 
 
 Bright Hope shall wake her golden lyre. 
 
 And echo forth her last sweet song, 
 
 And as it widely floats along, 
 
 Upon her golden pinions fly 
 
 Back to her bright home in the sky, 
 
 And there, upon love's downy breast, 
 
 She'll sink to an eternal rest. 
 
 A SKETCH. 
 
 'Twas evening, and the air was soft and mild, 
 And calm and low the silken zephyrs blew ; 
 The wild birds warbled forth their music wild, 
 
 Where woodbines clambered and bright flow'rets 
 grew; 
 The evening sky, with blushing roseate hue. 
 
 Hung brightly o'er the dew-bespangled plains ; 
 Along the grove the bird of evening flew, 
 And warbled forth her plaintive, mellow strains, 
 Where twilight's god in sombre mantle reigns. 
 
 The golden sun was slowly sinking down 
 Into his palace o'er the western hills ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 181 
 
 His last rays flitting through the forest brown, 
 
 And dancing gaily o'er the gushing rills, 
 Weaving bright haloes round the verdant hills, 
 
 Where lambkins skip about in joyous glee. 
 Where evening's god his sparkling dew distills 
 O'er shady grove and zephyr shaken tree, 
 Where evening wakes her joyous revelry. 
 
 The great round moon was stealing, bright and fair, 
 
 Above the hills all radiant with her light, 
 And, like a coronal of jewels rare. 
 
 The twinkling stars shone on the brow of night ; 
 All nature reveled in supreme delight, 
 
 And wore an aspect beautiful and gay ; 
 For emerald spring waved high her scepter bright, 
 And flow'rets sprung beneath her genial sway. 
 And songsters warbled through the livelong day. 
 
 A little cot, half hid in clustering flowers. 
 
 Stood where a placid stream was wandering on ; 
 'Twas shaded o'er by fragrant jasmine bowers. 
 
 Where spring's bright songsters waked their early 
 song 
 The glistening leaves and swelling buds among ; 
 
 Where, on his restless wing, the humming bird 
 Waked, with the housewife bee, his drowsy hum, 
 The clinging vines and blushing roses stirred, 
 Where roving zephyrs' whispering voice was heard. 
 
 Q 
 
182 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Beneath that fragrant bower two beings stood, 
 One in her girlhood's charms, one in his man- 
 hood's pride ; 
 There, 'neaththe shadows of the dark, green wood. 
 
 They stood in saddened silence side by side, 
 And watched the rippling of the glassy tide, 
 
 All radiant with the pale moon's pensive glow ; 
 Adown their cheeks the bitter tear-drops glide. 
 And every glance bespeaks the deepest woe. 
 As faster still the bitter grief-drops flow. 
 
 The rose-bud bloomed upon the maiden's cheek, 
 
 And deep and tender was her azure eye ; 
 Her glances shone all tearfully and meek. 
 
 As through the clouds gleamed out the distant sky ; 
 Her bosom heaved with sorrow's mournful sigh. 
 
 And, fondly clinging to her lover's breast, 
 She gazed all sadly on the evening sky, 
 Her youthful face with every beauty drest. 
 Although its gladness was by grief oppressed. 
 
 In rich, redundant showers of sunny gold. 
 Fell o'er her snowy neck her clustering hair, 
 
 And o'er her form, cut out in beauty's mold, 
 A snowy garment sported on the air ; 
 
 Oh hers was beauty unsurpassed and rare ; 
 A speaking loveliness, time can't efface, 
 
 Played o'er her features, wonderfully fair. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 183 
 
 And lighted up with smiles her youthful face, 
 Replete with every charm and winning grace. 
 
 And he, the youth, was of a noble form ; 
 
 His dark eye flashed as fearlessly and free 
 As golden lightnings, in the midnight storm, 
 
 Speed their bright pinions o'er the dark blue sea ; 
 And naught more lovely than his face could be ; 
 
 His high brow shaded by its ebon hair, 
 His sunny smile of joyousness and glee. 
 His silvery accents floating soft and clear, 
 Which wakened mirth and chased away despair. 
 
 And with unchanging truth did he adore 
 
 The flower-like maiden leaning on his breast; 
 
 His heart for love of her was running o'er. 
 
 As to his throbbing breast her form he pressed. 
 
 And met the tender glances from her eye. 
 
 Which, tho' her heart by sorrow was oppressed, 
 
 Still beamed as fondly and as fervently, 
 
 As in the spring-time of their youth gone by. 
 
 There, 'neath the fragrant woodbine shades they stood. 
 Wrapt in the shadows of departing day, 
 
 No sound disturbed the evening solitude. 
 
 Save when the lonely night-bird screamed her lay. 
 
 When ''Linda," tossing back her tresses gay. 
 And raising to her lover's face her eye. 
 
 Whose every glance did deepest woe betray, 
 
184 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Her accents soft as zephyrs whispering by, 
 Floated in sadness on the evening sky. 
 
 Oh, Walter, why, in mournful tones she cried, 
 To other countries will you roam away, 
 
 Upon the billow's angry breast to ride, 
 
 Where wild winds madly drive the ocean spray ? 
 
 Why from our rural cottage will you stray j 
 To seek for riches in a distant land, 
 
 To dig for gold beneath the burning ray, 
 
 On California's far oif, distant strand. 
 
 Where sparkling rivers roll o'er golden sand ? 
 
 Why seek to gather heaps of glittering gold ? 
 
 For happiness and peace will not be thine, 
 Although your wealth be countless, and untold 
 
 The brightest gems in California's mine. 
 Ere you return, those eyes, which brightly shine. 
 
 May lose their lustre, dimmed by many a tear, 
 And gleaming 'raid those raven curls of thine, 
 The silver tracery brightly may appear, 
 And that smooth brow be marked by lines of care. 
 
 Oh Walter ! look upon the happy, peaceful bowers 
 Where we in gladness spent our childish days, 
 
 And chased the butterfly, or plucked the flowers. 
 Ere our young hearts knew aught of sorrow's ways. 
 
 Here we can lift our hearts in love and praise, 
 Untouched by worldly cares, to nature's God, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 185 
 
 And sing our matin hymns and vesper lays, 
 And tend our lambkins on this velvet sod, 
 Where oft in other days our infant feet have trod. 
 
 Beneath yon spreading oak we'll build our cot, 
 And there contented pass the hours away ; 
 
 We'll sit at eve beneath yon flow'ry grot, 
 And watch the shadows of departing day ; 
 
 Or listen to the bright-winged birdling's lay, 
 The evening zephyrs as they softly sigh. 
 
 The wild bees humming in the flow'rets gay. 
 
 Oh sweetly will our golden hours flit by, 
 
 Blest in each other's love, we'll live and die. 
 
 Your youthful hands shall tend the golden grain. 
 Domestic duties shall engage my care ; 
 
 I'll drive the lambkins o'er the verdant plain, 
 To where the sparkling streamlet gushes clear. 
 
 And with a skillful hand our frugal meals prepare. 
 Oh happy thrice will be our forest home, 
 
 And gratefully will rise our evening prayer ; 
 
 To harm us, grief and sorrow ne'er will come. 
 
 And from our blissful bower we'll never roam. 
 
 Then, Walter, leave me not for distant lands. 
 Enjoy the blessings strewn around you now; 
 
 Seek not to gather glittering golden sands, 
 
 They'll plant the thorns of care upon your brow ; 
 
186 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Then here, beneath the silvery moonlight, vow 
 That in our woodland cottage you will stay, 
 For, oh, I feel the sad foreboding now, 
 That if you leave me, I shall fade away. 
 And in my loneliness soon hasten to decay. 
 
 He gazed a moment on her tear-gemmed cheek, 
 Her pleading eye, blue as the heaven above; 
 
 His sorrow choked him, and he could not speak ; 
 He deeply felt her tenderness and love. 
 
 And with his golden dreams he wildly strove ; 
 But false ambition waked her luring strain, 
 
 And tempted him in distant lands to rove ; 
 
 A thirst for riches filled his throbbing brain, 
 
 And Linda's gentle pleadings all were vain. 
 
 I must be gone, he cried ; I'll soon return. 
 
 And with me bring you honors, wealth and power. 
 And there beneath yon spreading oak and fern, 
 
 Our lofty home shall be a marble tower. 
 And you, my lovely one, my fragile flower. 
 
 Shall never feel the shadow of a care ; 
 In golden splendor you shall pass each hour. 
 With naught to dim that cheek to me so fair, 
 Or blight the rose-bud sweetly nestling there. 
 
 He clasped the maiden to his throbbing breast, 
 And vowed all fond and true would be his love. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 187 
 
 While golden sunbe 'ins li' gered in the \Yest, 
 Or stars in beauty decked the sky above, — 
 
 Then left her, far in distant lands to rove 
 
 From all the fond endearments of his early home, 
 
 The falseness of his golden dreams to prove. 
 
 Along his way the moonbeams brightly shone, 
 
 And Linda in her bower was left alone. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 'Twas morn. O'er blooming Sacramento's vale 
 
 The golden sun poured down his early ray ; 
 The scent of flowers floated on the gale, 
 
 And wild-birds gaily danced from spray to spray, 
 And sweetly caroled out their music gay ; 
 
 The sparkling rivers rolled adown the plain, 
 And with the echoes of the opening day 
 Came up the music of the miner's strain, 
 As busily he dug the golden ore to gain. 
 
 In a lonely spot, beneath a waving tree, 
 
 A cheerless wand'rer sat, silent and alone ; 
 He heeded not the bursts of melody, 
 
 Nor golden sunbeams round him widely thrown ; 
 The light of sorrow in his proud eye shone. 
 
 His ebon locks were thickly streaked with gray. 
 And tears like jewels on his pale cheek shone. 
 
 As mournfully he looked on nature's scenes so gay 
 
 Beside him lay a glittering heap of yellow gold , 
 A wealthy treasure monarchs might desire, 
 
188 
 
 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Of countless worth and value all untold, 
 
 More than the wants of mortals e'er require, 
 
 To which the heart of man should ne'er aspire. 
 He looked upon it with a tearful eye. 
 
 From which had flown all youthful hope and fire ; 
 
 The spring-time of his youth had glided by, 
 
 And nothing now was left him but to die. 
 
 Oh why ! in mournful tones he wildly cried, 
 In quest of riches did I roam away ? 
 
 Happy I might have lived, and calmly died, 
 And ne'er felt sorrow, as I feel to-day; 
 
 But discontented, I would widely stray. 
 
 Unheeding love's fond pleadings in my ear ; 
 
 And now I'm doomed to die, from all I love away. 
 
 Where love's warm accents I no more may hear, 
 
 Or feel upon my brow affection's tear. 
 
 Here I have spent long, weary years of pain, 
 
 In heaping riches I can ne'er enjoy ; 
 My hard, unceasing toil has all been vain, 
 
 A stranger's hand must now my wealth destroy. 
 I thought my bliss would be without alloy. 
 If riches were around my pathway shed ; 
 But, now I've gained them, they my peace destroy, 
 Deepen the throbbings of my aching head, 
 And plant the thorns of care upon my dying bed. 
 
 Oh Linda ! had I heeded thy sweet, gentle voice. 
 And lived contented in my woodland hom«. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 189 
 
 Made wisdom and industry my choice, 
 
 Instead of leaving thee, for wealth to roam, 
 
 Oh then I should have had a rural dome, 
 And lived in happiness and bliss with thee ; 
 
 But now thine azure eye, which erst so brightly shone. 
 
 Or sunny brow, I never more shall see, 
 
 Nor meet thy smile, which beamed so lovingly on me. 
 
 He ceased ; the pallor on his cheek increased, 
 
 And dim and lustreless now grew his eye, 
 The throbbings of his sorrow-stricken bosom ceased. 
 
 And as the mourning zephyrs whispered by, — 
 With no kind hand the last sad tear to dry. 
 
 Though rich, of all the luxuries of life denied, — 
 He breathed unheard his last fond parting sigh. 
 Three times on Linda's name he wildly cried, 
 Then bowed his head upon his gold, and died. 
 
 Fair Linda, hapless maiden, in her lonely bower, 
 Watched vainly for her lover's quick return ; 
 
 Sadly and slowly passed each weary hour, 
 
 And her fond heart was left in solitude to mourn ; 
 
 Her bright eye of its azure beams was shorn, 
 The rose-bud from her young cheek fled away, 
 
 Her bird-like voice grew cheerless and forlorn ; 
 
 Hushed was her merry laugh, once glad and gay, 
 
 And her fair form was sinking to decay. 
 
190 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Each day brought sorrow only to her lonely breast ; 
 
 By hope deferred her gentle heart was crushed ; 
 She died, and angels bore her to her rest, 
 
 Where tears come not, and sorrow's wail is hushed 
 Around her tomb the rose in beauty blushed. 
 
 And sylvan songsters waked their mourning lay, 
 When crimson light the cheek of morning flushed, 
 Or 'neath the shadows of departing day, 
 For her who, young and lovely, passed away. 
 
 BEST IN HEAVEN. 
 
 Art thou a wanderer through this vale of tears. 
 
 And is thy heart oppressed by boding fears ? 
 
 Is life to thee all desolate and drear, 
 
 AVithout a sunbeam bright thy way to cheer ? 
 
 Do wint'ry clouds, as shadowy as the tomb, 
 
 Hang o'er thy path in cheerless, hopeless gloom ? 
 
 By adverse winds is thy sad spirit driven ? 
 
 Lone, wandering one, there's rest for thee in heaven. 
 
 Art thou a mourner ? dost thou bend above 
 
 The mound which covers one whom thou didst love, 
 
 Which hides the sunny smile that warmed thy heart, 
 
 The gentle voice that bade thy fears depart, 
 
 The only one who could thy spirit cheer. 
 
 Of all the world unto thy heart most dear ? 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 191 
 
 Has death's cold hand affection's bright cords riven ? 
 Lone, stricken one, there's rest for thee in heaven. 
 
 Art thou world-wearied ? are thy fond hopes dead ? 
 Have all the golden fancies of life's spring-time fled ? 
 Hast thou beheld thy heart-gems fade away, 
 Like early dew before the morning ray ? 
 Has disappointment crushed thy trusting heart ? 
 And hast thou felt inconstancy's sharp dart ? 
 With grief and sorrow has thy spirit striven ? 
 World-wearied one, there's rest for thee in heaven. 
 
 Art thou afflicted ? is thy sickly form 
 Crushed by disease and blighted by the storm ? 
 Upon thy brow has pain his signet placed. 
 And cast his shadows o'er thy pallid face ? 
 Are days of suffering, nights of sleepless woe, 
 And torturing pain, thy portion here below ? 
 From thy wan cheek is health's bright rose-bud driven ? 
 Afflicted one, there's rest for thee in heaven. 
 
 Art thou an orphan, without friends and home, 
 Destined alone through this cold world to roam, 
 Poor and unloved, without a father's smile, 
 A mother's voice, thy sorrows to beguile, 
 E'en not a place to rest thy aching head, 
 Doomed life's rough, thorny path alone to tread? 
 In thy lone heart are hope's bright cords all riven ? 
 Lone orphan one, there's rest for thee in heaven. 
 
192 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Art thou an aged pilgrim, wandering o'er, 
 With feeble step, life's tempest-beaten shore, 
 Beneath a weight of years thy form bowed low, 
 The frosts of age all glistening on thy brow ? 
 Have cherished friends long fallen by thy side ? 
 Gone is the glory of thy manhood's pride ? 
 Long with life's tempest hast thou boldly striven ? 
 Lone, aged one, there's rest for thee in heaven. 
 
 Art thou a mourner over broken breams ? 
 
 And hast thou followed pleasure's phantom gleams, 
 
 Pursued the siren o'er the gilded plain, 
 
 And found, too late, thy fond pursuit was vain ? 
 
 All disappointed hast thou turned away, 
 
 To mourn the folly of thy early day. 
 
 Thy spirit broken, all thy bright hopes riven? 
 
 Mistaken one, there's rest for thee in heaven. 
 
 Sweet rest in heaven ! how it should cheer the soul, 
 
 When tempests rave around, and thunders roll, 
 
 When angry billows toss our little bark, 
 
 And skies above are wintery and dark, 
 
 When sadly over life's tempestuous way, 
 
 We wander on without a cheering ray. 
 
 Crushed by affliction, filled with grief and woe, 
 
 Bereft of all we cherished here below. 
 
 Oh then to raise from earth the tearful eye, 
 
 And know that, far beyond the azure sky. 
 
BRIEF P OEMS. 
 
 193 
 
 Is the bright home where Grod and angels dwell, 
 Where grief comes not, where friends ne'er say ' ' fare- 
 well," 
 Where sweet ambrosial flowers all brightly bloom. 
 And all is bright, without a shade of gloom, 
 Where tears from every eye are wiped away. 
 And forms of beauty never know decay ; 
 Then who could not life's heavy burden bear, 
 Its disappointments, weariness and care. 
 For that bright hope, when life's dull cords are riven. 
 Of rest from all our woes, sweet rest in heaven ! 
 
 LINES 
 
 ON READING "MATILDA'S POEMS." 
 
 Bright gifted one ! how sweetly flows thy plaintive lyre, 
 
 With glowing strains of sweet celestial fire ; 
 
 Now soft and low, like evening's wandering breeze, 
 
 When sighing lowly through the waving trees, 
 
 Now loud and clear its lofty numbers roll, 
 
 In strains of burning eloquence to charm the soul. 
 
 Oh would I had a golden lyre like thine, 
 Then for thy brow a dazzling wreath I'd twine ; 
 I'd wake its chords to wild, enrapturing lays, 
 Till all the earth were vocal with thy praise. 
 R 
 
194 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 But whither am I straying ? 'tis not meet 
 
 That / the music of thy plaintive lyre should greet, 
 
 That /should twine a wreath to deck thy brow, 
 
 Since one so dazzling rests upon it now, 
 
 A wreath of blooming laurels ; and thy name 
 
 Stands high upon the gilded page of Fame, 
 
 And she has waked her silver trump to praise 
 
 The touching beauty of thy matchless lays. 
 
 Bright eyes have wept, and lofty heads bowed low, 
 
 Moved by the strains which from thy harp-strings flow. 
 
 And 'tis not meet that / should wish to raise 
 
 My humble harp to echo forth thy praise. 
 
 But may thy plaintive lute-strings 
 
 Their music long retain. 
 Winning every day green laurels 
 
 To cluster round thy name. 
 
 Upon thy brow may Fame's green wreath 
 
 For ever brightly bloom. 
 Until thy footsteps reach 
 
 The margin of the tomb. 
 
 And then may'st thou exchange it 
 
 For a crown of glory bright. 
 And tune anew thy harp-strings 
 
 In the realms of golden light. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 195 
 
 SONa OF THE THUNDER KINO. 
 
 I come, I come, sang the Thunder king ; 
 
 Make room for my bride and me ; 
 And wide through the forest the echo rang, 
 
 And bounded over the sea. 
 
 We come, we come, a royal pair, 
 
 In fiery splendor dressed ; 
 We pierce the sky with our golden darts, 
 
 As we sit on the storm-cloud's breast. 
 
 Her burning fingers my Lightning bride 
 
 Sweeps over the rolling cloud, 
 And I play her storm-tune a wild duet. 
 
 On my thunder-drum, deep and loud. 
 
 I speed o'er the earth my deafening bolt, 
 
 And she her darts of fire. 
 Till the forest reels to its inmost depths. 
 
 And quails beneath our ire. 
 
 Proud man in fear shall bow his head, 
 
 His lofty head bow low, 
 As we sweep along on our tempest wing. 
 
 Destroying as we go. 
 
 I come, he sang, and the tempest raved. 
 And the storm-cloud rolled on high. 
 
196 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 And the Lightning wove a golden wreath, 
 To brighten the pitchy sky. 
 
 The heavens wept a shower of tears, 
 And the sun withdrew in woe, 
 
 The mountains reeled, and the ocean heaved. 
 And the forest trees bowed low. 
 
 I go, I go, sang the Thunder king. 
 In a voice both wild and proud. 
 
 And the Lightning staid her golden wing, 
 And was lost in the ebon cloud. 
 
 WHEN I FEEL ALONE. 
 
 'Tis not when I sit in the dark green wood. 
 
 With the nodding trees around me, 
 When silence reigns, and solitude 
 
 In her mystic chain has bound me, 
 When the bright-eyed flowers spring up at my feet, 
 And fill the air with their odors sweet. 
 When the zephyrs sigh, and the breezes moan. 
 Oh it is not then that I feel alone. 
 
 'Tis not when I sit in the garden bowers. 
 And the bright blue sky hangs o'er me. 
 
 When the wild birds sing 'mid the blushing flowers. 
 And the sunbeams dance before me, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 197 
 
 When I list to the song of the streamlet bright, 
 As it leaps along in the golden light, 
 When the mock bird warbles his joyous song, 
 Oh it is not then that I feel alone. 
 
 'Tis not when I sit at the midnight hour, 
 
 With the shadows hanging o'er me, 
 When I read the deeds of might and power. 
 
 Of those who have gone before me, 
 When I wander away through the scenes of yore. 
 And drink from the fountain of ancient lore. 
 When I live with the great ones of ages gone, 
 Oh it is not then that I feel alone. 
 
 'Tis when I sit in the crowded hall, 
 
 Where glad bright eyes are glancing. 
 Where joyously to the melting strains 
 
 Light fairy feet are dancing ; 
 To list to the merry bursts of song, 
 And feel that of all the gladsome throng. 
 Not e'en one heart throbs with my own. 
 Oh then it is that I feel alone. 
 
 I am not alone in the grand old woods, 
 Where the wild, free winds are blowing ; 
 
 Where the mountains rise in majesty, 
 And limpid streams are flowing ; 
 
 'Tis when I look, but cannot meet. 
 
 One kindred glance my soul to greet, 
 
 R-5f 
 
198 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 When no loving heart throbs with my own, 
 Oh then it is that I feel alone. 
 
 In the stilly hours of the voiceless night, 
 
 When the stars are glistening o'er me, 
 
 And sweetly smile with their dewy eyes. 
 
 Like the loved ones gone before me, 
 Each soft breeze whispers a gentle strain. 
 Which frees my heart of its woe and pain, 
 I meet with a welcome where'er I roam, 
 'Mid nature's scenes I am not alone. 
 
 AN EVENING RAMBLE. 
 
 'Twas twilight hour ; the god of evening reigned. 
 And threw his shadowy mantle o'er the earth ; 
 The noise and turmoil of the day were o'er ; 
 The sounding hammer and the grating saw. 
 The teamster's whistle and the ploughman's song. 
 Alike were hushed. No sound broke on 
 The stilly evening air, save the lone night-bird's 
 Song, mingling its plaintive music with the 
 Beetle's hum, or the low murmur of the silver 
 Stream which gamboled o'er its flower enameled path. 
 
 The king of day 
 Had wheeled his chariot o'er the western hills, 
 And left upon the azure sky the golden traces 
 Of its burning wheels. The silver moon, with pallid 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 199 
 
 Cheek, sat high upon her jewel throne ; 
 And with a sober step old Night advanced, 
 His ebon brow relieved by starry gems. 
 From his bright urn the vesper god poured 
 Down the pearly dew, which glistened on the 
 Bosoms of the sleeping flowers, like tears on 
 Beauty's cheek. The gentle zephyrs softly 
 Whispered by, and with their silken wings 
 They softly stirred the emerald robes which 
 Smiling nature wore. 
 
 Wooed by the beauty of 
 The stilly hour, I strolled away o'er shadowy 
 Grove and flower-bespangled hill. I paused 
 To watch the rippling of the shining waves, 
 All radiant with the moonbeams, and to 
 Inhale the odors sweet, breathed from the 
 Roseate petals of the sleeping flowers. 
 I wandered on, lost in my sweet reflections, 
 Till suddenly before me rose a snow-white 
 Cot, half hid in clustering vines. Around the 
 Rustic porch the jessamine and honeysuckle 
 Fondly clung, and o'er the latticed window 
 Clambered up the virgin rose, in all its snowy 
 Whiteness. 
 
 Entranced I stood and gazed 
 Upon the lovely spot, so wildly beautiful in 
 Sweet simplicity, adorned by smiling nature's 
 Skillful hand. When, softly stealing on the 
 
200 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Whispered breeze, a melting strain fell on my 
 Listening ear. I turned towards the flower-wreathed 
 Door, and by the silvery radiance of the moon I saw 
 The little group. The father, with his forehead 
 Shaded o'er with silver tracery, stood, and by his 
 Side the gentle sharer of his joys and woes ; 
 And circling round them were the cherished 
 Pledges of their early love. 
 
 Softly and sweetly, like the strains 
 Wooed from the chords of some ^olian harp, their 
 Evening hymn was borne upon the passing zephyrs 
 Up to heaven. The lisping voices of the infant band, 
 In union with the deep tones of their sire, made 
 Music sweet, such as the angels love to hear. 
 Their simple song was finished, and they knelt, 
 And in a touching voice the aged one sent up to 
 Heaven his grateful, fervent prayer, and ever and 
 Anon the murmuring voices of the little ones 
 Fell on my ear. 
 
 I stood and gazed upon them, in their 
 Sweet abode ; that aged pilgrim, with his loved 
 Ones nestling round him, 'neath the quiet shadows 
 Of departing day, all sending up their mingled 
 Prayer of love and praise. My eyes were filled 
 With tears, and deep emotion swelled my bosom, 
 As I thought upon the splendor of the rich and 
 Grreat, and, 'mid their luxury, the care and woe 
 That wring their hearts ; and contrasted it with 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 201 
 
 Them, the sweet contentment of that little band, 
 Blest in their humble home, above the lot of mortals. 
 
 I've listened to rich, lofty strains of 
 Music ; the melody of dulcet chords, soft blending 
 With the birdlike strains breathed forth from 
 Beauty's lips ; but never on my ear fell strains 
 So heavenly, so like the music of an angel choir, 
 As was the mingled music of that evening hymn. 
 It floated low and soft upon the gentle air, like 
 Angel whispers, then rose to high, sweet numbers, 
 As their hearts were filled with holy rapture. 
 And, oh, that prayer ! breathed from the pious 
 Heart of him who knelt, surrounded by his 
 Little band, his snowy tresses floating on the breeze. 
 And o'er his furrowed brow the light of glory beaming. 
 
 Oh 'twas a touching scene ! 
 Such as the angels gaze upon with rapture. 
 Methought I saw them looking down from their 
 Bright home upon that little group, and felt 
 As if their golden wings were rustling round me. 
 
 My heart was filled with holy rapture. 
 Such as I had never felt before. From that hour 
 All longings after earthly glory left my breast. 
 I oft had dreamed and wished for worldly fame, 
 And sought to win a laurel wreath, to deck my 
 Brow, to place my name high on the glittering 
 Arch of glory. But as the dew-drop fades before 
 The morning ray, so from my heart those golden 
 
202 
 
 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Phantoms fled. I saw that wealth and fame, 
 And honor cannot give sweet peace of mind. 
 The humblest, most obscure, oft feel pure joys 
 Which wealth's proud votaries but seldom know. 
 The bird that warbles forth the sweetest strains. 
 His nest erects low on the ground ; and flowers 
 Which breathe the sweetest odors, spread their leaves 
 And rear their tiny heads in roseate bloom, and 
 Bloom and die unnoticed in the silent shade. 
 I know not what my destiny may be ; how much 
 Of grief or woe may yet be mine. But would 
 Some gentle fairy me the power give to choose 
 My future lot, I'd live in some lone spot, like 
 That white cottage, shut out from all the busy 
 Cares of life. Unwearied by its woes, and wishing 
 Not its honors, I would live amid the blushing 
 Flowers; the clustering vines should twine their 
 Loving arms around my door, and bright-winged 
 Birds their carols sing to cheer my heart. 
 
 Oh, in a place like that sweet cot I'd live, 
 With some congenial spirit like my own, content 
 To live among the rural scenes of nature, envying 
 Not the splendors or the honors of the world. 
 Which, freed from petty cares, could roam free 
 As the unchanged winds, and gather from 
 The book of nature stores of wisdom. 
 
 There with some trusting heart, which 
 Never knew deceit or guile, I'd pass my hours, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 203 
 
 Not knowing, and unknowing, and ofier up at 
 Morn and eve my song of praise, until I slept 
 That dreamless " sleep that knows no waking," 
 Save on heaven's blissful shore, where storms 
 And tempests never come, and where, o'er emerald 
 Hills unending day his golden scepter wields ; 
 Where heavenly music floats on every breeze, 
 And every soul is steeped in blissful melody. 
 
 >^> 
 
 WE HAVE BEEN FRIENDS TOGETHER. 
 
 ** We have been friends together, , J^ 
 
 Shall a light word part us now? " -^ 
 
 We have been friends together, 
 
 Since childhood's early morn. 
 We have fondly loved each other, 
 
 'Mid the sunshine and the storm ; 
 Of all the truth we plighted, 
 
 There is not one broken vow; 
 Our hearts have been united, 
 
 ' ' Shall a light word part us now ?" 
 
 We have sought with thornless roses 
 Each other's path to strew ; 
 
 If one heart knew a sorrow. 
 The other shared it too ; 
 
 In affliction's wild commotion 
 
 We have soothed each other's brow ; 
 
204 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 We have loved with deep devotion, 
 ' ' Shall a light word part us now ?" 
 
 Our love has been unshaken 
 
 'Mid the angry storms of life, 
 We have closer clung together 
 
 When fiercer grew the strife ; 
 Shall we now forget each other. 
 
 Must we break each plighted vow ? 
 '* We have been friends together, 
 
 Shall a light word part us now ?" 
 
 THE MISSIONARY. 
 
 'Twas rosy morn. The golden sun stole up from his 
 Bright chamber o'er the eastern hills, and kissed away 
 The dewy tears which glistened on the bosoms of the 
 Opening flowers. The azure sky was bright, un- 
 
 dimmed 
 By e'en the shadow of a passing cloud, and smiled 
 Serenely o'er the laughing earth, all radiant in the ver- 
 dant 
 Bobes of spring. 'Twas such a morn as woos the 
 
 heart. 
 From all its griefs and woes, and wakens thoughts of 
 
 that 
 Bright glorious home, that glory land, where all is 
 bright 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 205 
 
 And beautiful, without a shade of gloom ; where, thro' 
 The blooming fields of Eden, rolls the stream of life; 
 And on its flower-enameled banks the blest ones roam, 
 Arrayed in robes of spotless white, with bright 
 Unfading garlands blooming on their brows. 
 
 The morning breeze roved on his silken wing, 
 And played among the bright-eyed flowers and waving 
 Vines, clustering round a little cottage, snowy white, 
 Half hid in emerald green. The merry birds came 
 Dancing joyously, and filled the air with music, 
 Rich and wild. The first bright sunbeams glanced 
 Among the velvet leaves, and, stealing thro' the open 
 Window, fell athwart the pure, high brow of one who 
 Knelt, and ofiered up to heaven his fervent prayer, 
 Lighting it up with more than earthly radiance. 
 
 With streaming eyes and heaving bosoms. 
 By his side his mother and his gentle sister knelt, 
 While he, in deep, impassioned tones, sent up his last 
 Petition for those cherished ones. His form was noble, 
 And his face was heavenly and divine. His high pale 
 Brow was shaded by a cloud of midnight hair. 
 Which served to make more bright its glorious beauty, 
 And in the depths of his dark, soul-lit eyes reveled 
 A world of feeling. He was the idol of his widowed 
 Mother's heart, his orphan sister's only friend and 
 Guide. Around him all the tender feelings of their 
 Hearts were twined, and fondly he returned their 
 Trusting love. Long years of bliss had glided o'er 
 S 
 
206 BKIET POEMS. 
 
 Their heads ; blest in each other's love, content and 
 Happy they had lived. But now, at duty's call, 
 The son and brother must go forth to spread 
 The gospel tidings in a heathen land. Oh ! 
 What a -world of grief was concentrated in that 
 Parting hour. His fervent prayer was finished. 
 He arose, and as he dashed the tear-drops from 
 His manly cheek, in accents tremulous with deep 
 Emotion , breathed his last farewell : 
 
 * ' My mother ! thou who watched 
 Beside my infant couch, who led me safely 
 Through the slippery paths of youth, my heart's 
 One idol, I must leave thee now. Since childhood's 
 Earliest hour, thy smile has been the sunshine 
 Of my life, thy gentle voice the music of my heart. 
 When everyone proved false, thou still wert true; thy 
 Love has ever been my guiding star, my beacon 
 Light to cheer me on my way. Thou knowest 
 My deep, abiding love for thee ; thou knowest 
 How desolate my heart will be when I shall hear 
 Thy loving voice no more. Yet I must go, must 
 Leave this happy spot where I have spent so many 
 Gladsome hours. At God's command I go to spread 
 His gospel in a heathen land, the midnight shades 
 Of sin and vice to chase away ; to teach the 
 Unenlightened ones to bless his name, and waken 
 In their cheerless hearts a hope of happiness beyond 
 The confines of the tomb. I know that Israel's God 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 207 
 
 My wandering steps will guide o'er the rough path 
 Which I must tread alone. 
 
 *' And thou, my sister ! sweet one, we have 
 Loved with more than earthly love ; not e'en an 
 Unkind glance, an angry word, has ever dimmed 
 The sunshine of our lives. I leave thee now, like 
 A fair flower, alone and fatherless. But He 
 Who clothes the lilies of the field, the Father 
 Of the fatherless, will be thy friend. Trust in him. 
 And he'll guide thy footsteps o'er the thorny 
 Path of life, and bring thee safely to thy heavenly home. 
 My spirit oft will wander back to dwell with thee, 
 My loved one; thy love, thy memory, will cheer me. 
 When I roam a lonely stranger in a foreign land. 
 We never more may meet again ; we never more may 
 Kneel together at our mercy-seat ; but mother, sister. 
 We shall meet in heaven ; shall meet to part 
 No more, around our Father's throne, where farewell 
 Tears are never, never shed, where sorrow, grief and 
 Pain, can never come ; where all is glory, happiness 
 And bliss." 
 
 The mother raised her head from its 
 Loved resting place upon his breast ; her face 
 Was pale, and tears, like jewels, lay upon her cheek ; 
 But o'er her countenance a smile of heavenly 
 Resignation played. She pressed her hand upon 
 Her heaving breast, as if to still its throbbings wild. 
 And in a voice sad, sweet, and mournful said, 
 
208 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 " Go forth my boy, my beautiful, my own ; 
 I would not thou shouldst stay, although to part from 
 Thee will almost break my heart. Thou know'st 
 How desolate our hearth will be, deprived of thee. 
 Its only light. But go, my son, and God be with thee ; 
 Mayest thou spread wide the glorious tidings of a 
 Saviour's love. Thy mother's blessing goes with thee, 
 My son ; her prayers will ever rise in thy behalf ; 
 And when thou art a wanderer, far away, know 
 That her spirit will be with thee. Farewell ! my 
 Brave, my own beloved boy; go on, and fill 
 Jehovah's sacred word, and in the end thou'lt reap 
 A bright, a rich reward in heaven." 
 
 One moment to his throbbing heart he pressed 
 Those loved ones, then forth from childhood's happy 
 Home the missionary went. No more to look upon 
 Its wild retreats, its shadowy groves, endeared by 
 
 pleasant 
 Memories to his heart. To hear no more his mother's 
 Grentle voice, or feel his loving sister's fond embrace. 
 To roam a wanderer in a distant land, where no 
 Kind voice of love would cheer his heart, no gentle 
 Hand his tear-drops wipe away. Homeless and 
 Friendless, there to toil, and often pillow on the cold, 
 Damp ground his aching head. 
 
 But on he went, undaunted, undismayed ; 
 Jehovah called, and he obeyed his word ; and sought 
 To win the ransomed spirits of his fellow men from 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 209 
 
 Nature's darkness, sin's enslaving bonds, into the 
 Light and freedom of the sons of God. 
 
 Years rolled away, and in their 
 Rapid flight wrought many changes. The little 
 Cot was sinking to decay, and 'neath the shadows 
 Of the waving trees the mother and the sister slept 
 In death's embrace. The turf lay green upon their 
 Breasts, but their freed spirits roamed 
 In gladness o'er the blooming fields of Paradise. 
 
 'Twas evening hour, the deepening shadows 
 Fell darkly o'er India's dewy plains. The burning sun 
 Was sinking in the west, his last rays lingering like 
 A smile of love upon the cheek of evening. 
 
 Around a lowly couch a little band in 
 Silence stood, and gazed with tearful eyes upon 
 The dying missionary. Over his marble brow. 
 On which the seal of death was set, lay heavily 
 The masses of his glossy hair. The rose had faded 
 From his cheek, disease and toil had robbed his 
 Manly form of all its wondrous beauty. But o'er 
 Those still, pale features beamed a heavenly smile ; 
 Those deep, dark eyes burned with unearthly rapture. 
 When low and soft, like the sweet numbers of an 
 Angel's harp, in wild, sweet tones, his farewell hymn 
 Came stealing on the twilight air, and borne upon 
 The wandering breeze, was gently, sweetly wafted up 
 To heaven. 
 
 S^ 
 
210 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 I'm weary of life, and fain would I rest 
 From sorrow and pain in the green earth's breast, 
 Like a long-prisoned bird, would 'scape far away, 
 And fly to the mansions of e'er-during day. 
 
 My childhood's home, I would see thee once more, 
 Thy household walls that I loved days of yore, 
 'Neath thy sheltering roof would I breathe my last sigh , 
 My own native land, 'neath thy turf would I lie. 
 
 I would rest 'neath the church-yard's grand old trees, 
 Which rock to and fro in the evening breeze. 
 Where oft in my boyhood's happiest hours 
 I have wandered and culled the bright spring flowers. 
 
 Where the song birds warble, wild and clear, 
 Their music rich to the sunny air; 
 Where many a golden tinted beam 
 Flits over the turf like childhood's dream ; 
 
 Oh there in that lovely spot I would sleep. 
 Where the evening stars their vigils keep. 
 Where the night winds sigh, and the tall grass waves, 
 Like an emerald sea, o'er my loved ones' graves. 
 
 'Twouldbe sweet, when my heart's last throb is o'er. 
 When the fountains of life shall gush no more, 
 To sleep where those I love could come. 
 And plant the first spring flowers over my tomb. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 211 
 
 But it cannot be ; I am far away 
 From the scenes I loved in my youth's bright day ; 
 In a stranger's home I am doomed to die, 
 'Neath the turf of a foreign land I must lie. 
 
 My work is finished, my labors are o'er, 
 And I soon shall leave this weary shore, 
 This thorny path, which my feet have trod, 
 To dwell in the home of my father's God. 
 
 My soul is filled with pure delight. 
 The valley of death is bright, all bright; 
 My loved ones are beckoning me to come 
 And dwell with them in their starlit home. 
 
 Bright angels now are hovering near, 
 Their glorious strains fall on my ear ; 
 I see the golden city bright. 
 The ransomed ones in their robes of light. 
 
 I come, I come, ye blood- washed throng, 
 I come to join in your rapturous song ; 
 I come in your glorious home to dwell ; 
 My spirit is free ! farewell, farewell. 
 
 He ceased ; 
 And slowly, like the last faint murmurs of some 
 Wild ^olian lyre, the soft, melodious numbers 
 Died away. His marble brow grew paler, o'er his 
 Face a smile yet brighter and more glorious played. 
 
212 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 His bosom heaved once wildly, then that noble, 
 Generous heart was stilled for ever, 
 Silently he lay, still beautiful in death ; o'er his 
 Half parted lips a smile still lingered ; while borne 
 Upon the golden pinions of angelic ones, his ransomed 
 Soul was wafted up to heaven, there to receive its 
 Glorious reward. 
 
 Oh his was greatness, nobleness of soul. 
 Which mortals seldom know. He might have won. 
 With all his burning eloquence, his wondrous 
 Talents, and his beauty rare, the homage of the 
 World. Fame would have twined her brightest wreath 
 To deck his brow, and with her jeweled fingers 
 Carved his name high on her glittering arch. 
 But heedless of the homage offered at his shrine. 
 He turned away ; and in the early spring-time of 
 His youth, he left his home, his friends, his all, 
 And wandered forth, a stranger in a stranger's land, 
 And there with unremitting toil, and ceaseless care, 
 He taught the heathen ones the way to God and heaven. 
 
 Slowly that little band bore to its last lone 
 Resting-place that noble form, and 'neath the 
 Shadows of departing day they laid him down to rest ; 
 Far from his native land he sleeps, no loved one 
 Comes at twilight's stilly hour to drop a tear of sorrow 
 On his lonely tomb. The Ganges, as it proudly hurries 
 On, sighs out in mournful tones his requiem ; the 
 Evening winds flit o'er the lonely spot ; the wild flower 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 213 
 
 Springs untendcd on the sod, and pitying heaven 
 Its dewy tears distills upon the long, dark grass that 
 Waves above the Missionary's Grave. 
 
 DEAL GENTLY WITH YOUR PREACHER'S HEART. 
 
 Deal gently with your preacher's heart, 
 
 His home is far away, 
 He's severed from the loving friends 
 
 Who cheered his youth's bright day. 
 
 No father's voice now greets his ear, 
 
 No mother soothes his brow, 
 The sunshine of a sisters smile 
 
 Cheers not his lone heart now. 
 
 He sees no more his childhood's home 
 
 He loved in other days. 
 Its shadowy walks, its household walls, 
 
 Its fireside's golden blaze. 
 
 A stranger, in a stranger's land, 
 
 He wanders lone and sad ; 
 Oh speak to him in loving tones, 
 
 His spirit to make glad. 
 
 Deal kindly, gently, with his heart. 
 Soothe all his griefs and fears. 
 
214 
 
 BKIEF POEMS. 
 
 With tender hand his wants supply, 
 And wipe away his tears. 
 
 Has he not left his home, his all. 
 
 And come, with holy love 
 To guide you through the storms of life, 
 
 To a brighter home above ? 
 
 See with what ceaseless toil and care 
 
 He labors now to win 
 The spirits of his fellow men. 
 
 From misery, woe and sin. 
 
 With what a high and holy zeal 
 
 His very life is given, 
 Not for his own, but for your good. 
 
 To guide your soul to heaven. 
 
 Speak kindly to him, cheer his heart 
 
 With tenderness and love. 
 And when you go from earth you'll reap 
 
 A rich reward above. 
 
 For in his word, the Saviour says, 
 
 If ye shall in my name 
 A kindness to my servants show. 
 
 Ye do to me the same. 
 
 Then cheer your Preacher's lonely way 
 With words of love and truth ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 215 
 
 Give him a place within your heart, 
 And by your blazing hearth. 
 
 Deal kindly, gently, with his heart, 
 
 His every want supply, 
 And you'll receive a rich reward 
 
 In your bright home on high. 
 
 >x 
 
 I WANT TO GO HOME. 
 
 I want to go home, said a weary child. 
 
 As it played in the greenwood bowers, 
 And chased the golden butterfly, 
 
 Away through the blooming flowers. 
 I am tired of play, and gladly would rest 
 My weary head on my mother's breast, 
 The evening hours are dark and lone ; 
 I want to go home, I want to go home. 
 
 I want to go home, said a fair young girl. 
 As she threw back her silken curls ; 
 
 I want to go home, and the bright tears shone 
 On her cheek like glistening pearls. 
 
 I would feel again my mother's embrace, 
 
 I would gaze on my father's smiling face ; 
 
 My heart is weary, I feel alone ; 
 
 I want to go home, I want to go home. 
 
216 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 I want to go home, said a student pale, 
 
 As he sat in his lonely room, 
 Where his dim lamp threw its flickering ray 
 
 Through the dark and cheerless gloom. 
 I am weary of poring these volumes o'er, 
 These mystic pages of ancient lore ; 
 From these lonely scenes I would gladly roam 
 To the blazing hearth of my own sweet home. 
 
 I want to go home, said a warrior brave, 
 And he curbed his war-steed's flight ; 
 I would hie away to my native land, 
 
 Where the fields are green and bright ; 
 I am weary of all this noise and strife, 
 This fearful slaughter of human life ; 
 The cannon's roar and the dying moan. 
 Make my heart grow sick — I want to go home. 
 
 I want to go home, said the sailor boy. 
 As he paced the wave-washed deck. 
 And watched the flight of the rushing winds 
 
 That were driving his vessel awreck. 
 I would leave these dark and stormy seas, 
 For my native land's soft summer breeze ; 
 I am weary of wandering here alone, 
 I want to go home, I want to go home. 
 
 I want to go home, said a pilgrim lone. 
 On life's dark and thorny way ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 217 
 
 His form was bowed by a weight of years, 
 
 And his locks were thin and gray. 
 The friends of my youth have all gone on before, 
 And left me alone on this wilderness shore ; 
 By the storms of life I rudely am driven, 
 And fain would I rest in my home up in heaven. 
 
 /want to go home, I am weary of life, 
 
 My heart is sad and lone, 
 My golden hopes have fled away. 
 
 The friends of my youth have gone ; 
 Like flowers blighted by autumn's gloom, 
 They have passed away to the silent tomb. 
 And I fain would go, from this region lone, 
 To dwell with them in their golden home. 
 
 In the stilly night my spirit roams 
 
 O'er those Eden fields so bright. 
 Where the heavenly hills are ever crowned 
 
 With a halo of golden light, 
 Where sweet ambrosial flowers bloom. 
 Where there never comes a shadow of gloom, 
 And with golden harps, and robes of light. 
 The blest ones roam o'er the fields so briirht. 
 
 My spirit longs to fly away 
 
 From this sad and lonely shore. 
 For the heart that has dreamed of that glory land. 
 
 Can love this world no more. 
 
 T 
 
218 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 I would go where God and angels dwell, 
 Where loved ones no more will say ' ' farewell ;" 
 The cords of hope in my heart are riven, 
 I am weary — I fain would rest in heaven. 
 
 THE SACRIFICE OF THE BEAUTIFUL. 
 
 PART I . 
 
 O'er flow'ry vale, and grassy peak, 
 
 The deepening shadows lay. 
 And evening veiled her blushing cheek 
 
 'Neath twilight's mantle gray. 
 
 All brightly 'mid the closing flowers. 
 Like pearls the dew-drops gleamed, 
 
 And gaily through the dark green bowers 
 The silvery moonbeams streamed. 
 
 The air was fresh with Gilead's balm. 
 Stars gemmed the brow of night, 
 
 And through the groves of waving palm 
 Shone Jordan's waters bright. 
 
 But other sounds float on the breeze, 
 
 And fill the twilight air, 
 Than murmurs from the waving trees, 
 
 Or sparkling fountains near. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 219 
 
 And other sights now greet the eyes, 
 
 More fearful to behold, 
 Than flow'ry mounts, or starry skies, 
 
 Or Jordan's waves of gold. 
 
 The warlike men, from Ammon's coast, 
 
 Are camped within the glade, 
 A countless, mighty, fearless host, 
 
 For battle all arrayed. 
 
 There, like a mighty tempest cloud, 
 They spread their darksome rear, 
 
 Th^ir crimson banners streaming out 
 Upon the evening air. 
 
 And Israel hath no gallant chief 
 
 To lead her armies now ; 
 In every heart dwells bitter grief — 
 
 Fear sits on every brow. 
 
 But still the race does not belong 
 
 To those who swiftest run ; 
 Not always by the brave and strong 
 
 The victory is won. 
 
 And ye who in your glory came, 
 
 And proudly doth defy 
 The great Jehovah's awful name. 
 
 Your bravest ones shall die. 
 
220 
 
 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Before the might of Israel's power 
 Your hosts shall flee away, 
 
 As dew-drops vanish from the flower 
 Before the morning ray. 
 
 PART II . 
 
 All brightly o'er the hills afar 
 Gleamed the first tints of day, 
 
 And morning on his golden car 
 Had chased the night away. 
 
 And now comes forth a chosen band. 
 
 From Mizpeh's tented field, 
 With bended bow, and fearless hand. 
 
 To make the scornful yield. 
 
 For Grod has heard his people's prayer, 
 
 And will his chosen save ; 
 Eye may not glance, nor foot tread where 
 
 Their foes have not a grave. 
 
 The bride may twine the laurel wreath 
 
 To deck her warrior's brow. 
 But lowly on the field of death 
 
 His lifeless form lies now. 
 
 The mother's fondest prayers may rise. 
 Her absent son to save ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 221 
 
 His form no more will greet her eyes, 
 The battle ground's his grave. 
 
 Sing, Israel, sing to him whose power 
 
 Has led your armies on. 
 Who was your strength in danger's hour, 
 
 Amid the battle-storm. 
 
 Come forth, ye virgin bands to meet 
 
 The saviours of your land, 
 With timbrel, dance, and singing greet 
 
 The all-victorious band. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 O'er Palestine's bright, emerald hills 
 
 The sun is rising up. 
 To kiss away the dew that fills 
 
 The wild-flower's roseate cup. 
 
 Each sparkling fount and silver lake, 
 
 Reflects his golden rays, 
 Among the bowers the birdlings wake. 
 
 To chant their matin lays. 
 
 The soft winds, sighing as they go, 
 
 Kiss Sharon's lowly flowers ; 
 The groves of Lebanon bow low 
 
 To greet the morning hours. 
 
222 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 But why are Zion's daughters sad, 
 Why are their voices mute, 
 
 "Why comes no music wild and glad, 
 From cymbal, harp, or lute ? 
 
 Their cheeks are like the lily pale, 
 Tears dim their starry eyes, 
 
 And sorrow's wild and mournful wail 
 Groes floatino; to the skies. 
 
 No hymns of praise are in their bowers, 
 
 To hail the golden day ; 
 No lily hands pluck blushing flowers, 
 
 To deck their tresses gay. 
 
 No costly diamonds rich and rare, 
 No brightly glistening pearls. 
 
 Gleam on their brows so pure and fair. 
 Or 'mid their silken curls. 
 
 No golden chains, or jeweled braids. 
 Adorn their necks of snow ; 
 
 No silken robes of roseate shades 
 Around them softly flow. 
 
 Oh why, in this victorious hour, 
 Doth Israel weep and mourn, 
 
 Since God has made them, by his power, 
 The conquerors of the strong ? 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 223 
 
 Why speak they now with sorrowing voice 
 
 Why are their hearts cast down, 
 Why doth not Israel rejoice, 
 
 Since victory is their own ? 
 
 The conqueror vowed unto his God, 
 
 If he would be their friend, 
 Would give them strength, and bring them out 
 
 Victorious in the end. 
 
 That he would make a sacrifice, 
 
 An ofiering to his name. 
 Whatever first should meet his eyes, — 
 
 And, lo ! Ms daughter came. 
 
 The cherished idol of his heart, 
 
 His loved, his only child, 
 'Twas worse than death with her to part, 
 
 So gentle, sweet and mild. 
 
 With gladsome step she bounded forth, 
 
 And waked her warbling lyre 
 To strains of joyousness and mirth, 
 
 To greet her warrior sire. 
 
 With roseate cheek and flashing eye, 
 
 And blessings on her tongue, — 
 Alas, alas, that she should die. 
 
 The beautiful, the young. 
 
224 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 On Hermon's mount a train appears, 
 In sackcloth darkly clad ; 
 
 Their cheeks are bathed in bitter tears, 
 Their voices low and sad. 
 
 And sadly on the evening breeze 
 Groes up a mournful wail ; 
 
 It echoes through the sighing trees. 
 And mingles with the gale. 
 
 And weeping maids that lowly tomb 
 With spring's first flow'rets gem, 
 
 Meet emblems of that lovely one, 
 For ever lost to them. 
 
 LINES TO K ATE . 
 
 I'm sitting in the shadows, Kate, 
 Beneath the same green bower 
 
 Where you and I sat years ago, 
 At twilight's stilly hour. 
 
 The birds have sung themselves to sleep, 
 
 The soft winds whisper by, 
 And one by one the twinkling stars 
 
 Begem the azure sky. 
 
 And yonder comes the big May moon, 
 Just peeping o'er the hills. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 225 
 
 Her first faint beam, like childhood's dream, 
 Flits o'er the gushing rills. 
 
 The vines are clustering o'er my head. 
 
 With leaves all green and bright, 
 The flowers are nodding 'round my feet, 
 
 But I am sad to-night. 
 
 I'm thinking of that happy hour, 
 
 That gladsome long ago, 
 When you and I sat 'neath this bower, 
 
 Where we may sit no more. 
 
 Your eyes were blue, and bright, Kate ; 
 
 Your brow was passing fair, 
 And your roseate cheek was half concealed 
 
 Beneath your golden hair. 
 
 Your voice was rich and wild, Kate, 
 Like the mock-bird's gushing lay ; 
 
 Its music strangely thrilled my heart, 
 It was so glad and gay. 
 
 Your head was pillowed on my breast 
 
 In that sweet, stilly hour ; 
 Your arms were twined about my neck, 
 
 Beneath this same old bower ; 
 
 And in a soft and tender voice. 
 While stars were bright above, 
 
226 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 You told me of the noble one 
 Who had won your trusting love. 
 
 A golden month flew by, Kate, 
 
 And I stood by your side, 
 And listened to the low-breathed vow 
 
 That made you a happy bride. 
 
 I heard your father's tender voice, 
 
 Your mother's gentle tone, 
 As they gave you to another's arms, 
 
 Their beautiful, their own ; 
 
 And methought, as I marked your blushing cheek, 
 
 With tears of joy impearled, 
 'Twas stamped by nature's signet ring. 
 
 As the brightest in all the world. 
 
 And I knew by the smile on your ruby lip, 
 That your cares were lulled to rest, 
 
 When you met the glance of those deep, dark eyes. 
 And were clasped to that manly breast. 
 
 They bore you away to a southern home, 
 
 Where the roses ever bloom. 
 Where the fields are bright the long year round, 
 
 And the skies wear no wintry gloom. 
 
 You are happy there, with that noble one. 
 Who won your maiden heart ; 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 227 
 
 Your life's bright stream glides calmly on, 
 May its sunshine ne'er depart. 
 
 But I am sad and lone, Kate, 
 
 I've none to love me now, 
 No hand to wipe away my tears, 
 
 Or soothe my aching brow. 
 
 Though dear friends cluster round me. 
 
 There's none of them like you ; 
 I meet no smile so bright as yours, 
 
 No heart so warm and true. 
 
 My heart is sadder now, Kate, 
 
 Than in those days of yore, 
 When you and I in gladness roamed 
 
 The hills and meadows o'er. 
 
 The sun shone brighter then than now. 
 
 The birds sang sweeter lays. 
 For the cypress ne'er had wreathed my brow, 
 
 I knew not sorrow's ways. 
 
 But I've learned to know earth's joys will fade 
 
 Like the fleeting dew of morn, 
 And the brightest flower beneath its folds 
 
 Conceals the sharpest thorn. 
 
 Yet every grief that wrings my breast, 
 And every tie that's riven. 
 
228 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 But serves to lift my heart from earth 
 To brighter joys in heaven. 
 
 I'm sitting in the moonbeams, Kate, 
 Beneath the dear old bower 
 
 "Where you and I sat long ago, 
 At twilight's stilly hour. 
 
 And hope within me, whispering, says 
 That we shall meet once more. 
 
 That I shall hear that gentle voice 
 Which charmed my heart of yore. 
 
 But if that happy boon, dear Kate, 
 
 Relentless fate deny, 
 Be it our glorious lot to meet 
 
 Where ne'er is heard, "good bye." 
 
 LINES TO THE WHIPPOORWILL. 
 
 Lone bird of night, thy wild and simple lay 
 
 Wakes in my breast sweet memories of the past. 
 
 Carries me back to childhood's happy day, 
 Ere o'er my path the clouds of life were cast. 
 
 Well I remember, when a happy child, 
 
 I've sat and watched the evening sky grow dim, 
 
 While, wafted on the gale, thy numbers wild 
 Were strangely mingled with my evening hymn. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 229 
 
 Theu I was happy, not a grief or care 
 Had cast a shadow o'er my sunny brow ; 
 
 My sky was bright, my pathway green and fair, 
 Alas ! those scenes are sadly altered now. 
 
 Long years have rolled away, and I have changed 
 The roseate garland, worn in childhood's hours, 
 
 For one in which the cypress darkly waves 
 
 Its shadowy branches, 'mid the drooping flowers. 
 
 But sill I love thee, minstrel sad and lone, 
 E'en better than in those unclouded days 
 
 When joy's bright gems along my pathway shone. 
 And pleasure lighted up my sky with golden rays. 
 
 I love, when day's distracting cares are o'er. 
 And night comes forth in ebon robes arrayed, 
 
 To wander forth, as in the days of yore, 
 To some sequestered, solitary glade, 
 
 And listen to thy wild, bewildering lay ; 
 
 For many golden dreams, and visions bright. 
 Sweet memories of childhood's happy day, 
 
 Are wakened by thy song, lone bird of night. 
 
 U 
 
230 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 OH WHY SHOULD I BE SAD?/.-^^ 
 
 Oil why should tear-drops dim mine eye, 
 
 Why should my heart be sad, 
 When every thing is beautiful, 
 
 And nature all is glad ? 
 
 The birds are singing on the' spray. 
 
 The soft winds whisper by, 
 The flowers are blooming bright and gay 
 
 Beneath a smiling sky. 
 
 Each lisping stream and bubbling brook. 
 
 Makes music wild and glad ; 
 When every thing is bright and gay, 
 
 Oh why should I be sad ? 
 
 Though childhood's golden hours have fled, 
 
 With all its visions gay, 
 And many golden hopes are dead. 
 
 That gladdened life's young day, — 
 
 Yet loving friends are round me now. 
 
 Whose voices make me glad ; 
 Then why should sorrow cloud my brow, 
 
 Why should my heart be sad ? 
 
 I know that childhood's fairy dreams 
 
 Will fill my heart no more, 
 'Twill never throb with happiness, 
 
 As in the days of yore. 
 
BEIEF POEMS. 231 
 
 Z' But still a calm, serene delight 
 Is bursting on my soul, 
 A placid stream of untold joy, 
 Beyond the world's control. 
 
 And every day which passes by 
 
 Seems brighter than the last, 
 And sunbeams chase away the clouds 
 
 Which o'er my way are cast. 
 
 The hope of life beyond the grave 
 
 My spirit doth make glad ; 
 Tho' cares and sorrows crowd my way, 
 
 They cannot make me sad. 
 
 1 / ' 
 THE INFANT'S DREAM. i^^-^^^ 
 
 I had a sweet, sweet dream, mama, 
 
 As I slumbered on your breast, 
 My spirit roamed away from earth, 
 
 To the bright home of the blest. 
 
 Methought I sat in a deep green wood. 
 Where the golden sunbeams glanced, 
 
 And silver streams, thro' blushing flowers, 
 In bubbling beauty danced. 
 
 Thro' the waving trees the playful breeze 
 Was singing a merry song, 
 
 /^t^ 
 
 
232 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 And gaily upon their golden wings 
 The butterflies sported along. 
 
 The bright-winged birds, from the high tree tops, 
 
 Made music glad and wild, 
 The earth was beautiful and green. 
 
 And brightly the blue sky smiled. 
 
 My heart was filled with joy, mama, 
 As I plucked the budding flowers, 
 
 And chased the bright-winged butterflies 
 Away through the leafy bowers. 
 
 But suddenly the sky, mama. 
 
 Which smiled so blue and bright. 
 
 Was covered o'er with rolling clouds, 
 Of aspect black as night. 
 
 The wind swept wildly through the trees. 
 The deep-toned thunders crashed. 
 
 And brightly through the pitchy sky 
 The lurid lightnings flashed. 
 
 Alone in that dark wood, mama, 
 
 My heart grew sick with fear, 
 And kneeling on the cold, damp sod, 
 
 I said my little prayer. 
 
 And bitterly I wept, mama. 
 To think that I must die 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 233 
 
 Alone, on that wild stormy nig lit, 
 With not a loved one nic-h. 
 
 When softly through the raging storm 
 
 There came a gentle voice, 
 Whose silvery tones of tenderness 
 
 Made my lone heart rejoice. 
 
 And then, methought, upon my eyes 
 
 There burst a flood of lin-ht, 
 And near me stood a lovely form, 
 
 All beautiful and bris-ht. 
 
 Her face was like your own, mama, 
 Her robes were white as snow, 
 
 Her golden hair, in ringlets fair, 
 Did o'er her shoulders flow. 
 
 She kissed away my tears, mama, 
 
 And said in a sweet voice. 
 Which banished all my bitter fears, 
 
 And made my heart rejoice : 
 
 '' Come, little sorrowing one, with me, 
 
 To my bright, starlit home. 
 Where tear-drops ne'er will dim your eyes, 
 
 Where sorrows never come." 
 
 And she spread her shining wings, mama, 
 And bore me up on high. 
 
 U^ 
 
234 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Far, ftxr above the little stars 
 That twinkle in the sky, 
 
 Till we reached a pearly gate, n ama, 
 
 And a dome of glittering gold, 
 Where flowers in dazzling beauty bloomed, 
 
 And a silver river rolled. 
 
 Then a white-robed throng came forth, mama. 
 
 And led me to a throne. 
 Where One in royal splendor sat. 
 
 Whose face with glory shone. 
 
 And I knew, by his loving voice, mama. 
 And his heavenly smile, 'twas He 
 
 Who, when he was on earth, once said, 
 " Let children come to me." 
 
 And he bade me welcome home, mama. 
 
 And gave me a golden lyre, 
 Whose chords were tuned to glorious strains 
 
 Of sweet seraphic fire. 
 
 And as I roamed the emerald fields, 
 
 I met a cherub throng, 
 Arrayed in robes of spotless white, 
 
 Chanting a rapturous song. 
 
 And amid that angel band, mama, 
 One sweet face brightly shone, 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 235 
 
 'Twas our own Lizzie, whom we laid 
 To rest in the church-yard lone. 
 
 And could you have seen her there, mama, 
 
 On that bright flow'ry shore, 
 You ne'er for her would weep again, 
 
 You'd wish her back no more. 
 
 Now lay my head on your breast, mama. 
 
 And sing that same sweet strain. 
 And smile and weep as you did before, 
 
 For I fain would dream again. 
 
 I would mingle again with those happy ones 
 AVho roam o'er lliat golden shore, 
 
 My soul has drank of its pure delight, 
 I can love this world no more. 
 
 The little dreamer ceased to speak, her azure eyes 
 
 were closed. 
 And on her mother's gentle breast she silently reposed ; 
 But suddenly her bosom heaved, her rosy cheek grew 
 
 pale. 
 And from the trembling lips came forth a low and 
 
 feeble wail. 
 The little heart throbbed wildly once, and then for 
 
 ever ceased, 
 And from its earthly tenement the spirit was released. 
 The little form lay cold and still, the cords of life were 
 
 riven, [in heaven. 
 
 But freed from earth, a cherub bright, the spirit was 
 
236 BRIEF POEMS, 
 
 GOD FORSAKES THE RIGHTEOUS NEVER. 
 
 Pilgrim o'er life's weary way, 
 
 Is thy pathway dark for ever ? 
 Hope thou for a brighter day, 
 
 God forsakes the righteous never. 
 
 Is thy once unclouded sky 
 
 Veiled in gloom and darkness ever ? 
 
 Upward lift thy tearful eye, 
 
 God forsakes the righteous never. 
 
 Doth the ruthless hand of death 
 
 All affection's bright chords sever ? 
 
 Still despair not, though 'tis dark, — 
 God forsakes the righteous never. 
 
 Soon thou'lt leave this land of woe. 
 High in heaven to dwell for ever ; 
 
 Faint not, then, but onward go, 
 God forsakes the righteous never. 
 
 A HYMN. 
 
 In every breeze that whispers by, 
 In every opening flower. 
 
 In every star that gems the sky, 
 I see, Lord, thy power. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 237 
 
 The birds that rise on silken wing 
 
 A joyful song upraise, 
 And in their wild-wood music sing 
 
 An anthem to thy praise. 
 
 Each bubbling brook, and silver stream, 
 
 Each flower and waving tree, 
 Each shadowy cloud and golden beam, 
 
 Seems whispering, Lord, of thee. 
 
 All nature's works in gladness sing 
 Thy wondrous power and praise, 
 
 And all the mingling sounds of spring 
 To thee a paean raise. 
 
 And shall my voice be mute alone, 
 
 'Mid nature's loud acclaim ? 
 No, let my heart, with answering tone, 
 . Extol thy holy name. 
 
 For nature's debt is small to mine, 
 
 Its works will pass away. 
 And I — oh proof of love divine ! — 
 
 Shall live through endless day. 
 
 My Saviour left his glorious throne, 
 
 A sacrifice to give ; 
 Man's suffering lot he made his own. 
 
 And died, that we might live. 
 
238 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Then may my heart for ever be 
 Filled with undying love, 
 
 And may my hymn of gratitude 
 Like incense float above. 
 
 ADDRESS TO AN OLD BEECH TREE. 
 
 WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A FRIEND. 
 
 Thou still art proudly standing, old monarch of the 
 
 vale, 
 Thou hast borne full many a tempest, oft bowed before 
 
 the gale. 
 But thy giant arms are still unscathed by touch of 
 
 time or storm, 
 And I see no traces of decay upon thy mighty form. 
 
 Thy proud head nods as gracefully amid the golden 
 
 light. 
 Thy leaves, which quiver in the breeze, are still as 
 
 green and bright 
 As when, in days long passed away, a happy girl, I 
 
 j^layed [shade. 
 
 Upon the soft, green velvet turf beneath thy pleasant 
 
 Oh when I look upon thy trunk, on which are carved 
 
 the names 
 Of those who oft beneath thy shade held happy, 
 
 youthful games. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 239 
 
 My heart grows sick to know that they, the beautiful, 
 
 the gay. 
 Whose voices cheered my spirit then have gone, all 
 
 gone away. 
 
 I've sat beneath thy branches, when hope my bosom 
 
 filled. 
 And every chord in my young heart with youthful 
 
 rapture thrilled, 
 When loved ones nestled round me, with words of love 
 
 and truth, 
 And not a cloud of sorrow dimned the sunlit eye of youth . 
 
 Amid thy bright green branches the wild birds gaily 
 
 sang, 
 And gaily o'er the hill-tops the gushing music rang. 
 But they were not so glad as we, who sat beneath the 
 
 shade 
 Which thy thickly-spreading branches upon the green 
 
 turf made. 
 
 Oh, cloudy days had sunshine then, and life seemed all 
 
 a dream, 
 Which glided on in brightness, like a lovely fairy 
 
 stream, 
 My heart was full of happiness, and sunlight wreathed 
 
 my brow, 
 I ne'er had mourned o'er faith betrayed, or wept love's 
 
 broken vow. 
 
240 
 
 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 I have sat beneath thy shade, when all those hopes 
 
 had fled, 
 And youth's bright dreams, like blighted flowers, were 
 
 faded, cold and dead. 
 When sorrow from my brow had torn hope's brightly 
 
 blooming flowers, 
 And decked it with a cypress wreath, twined from her 
 
 own dark bowers. 
 
 And once again I'm sitting beneath thy sheltering 
 
 bough, 
 But those who sat beside me once, are not beside me 
 
 now, 
 I listen for their voices, their laughter sweet, that 
 
 gushed 
 Like music from their happy hearts, but all alas ! is 
 
 hushed. 
 
 The young, the gay, the lovely, alike have passed 
 away. 
 
 Some wander o'er the ocean, some sleep 'neath church- 
 yard clay. 
 
 All, all are gone, and I am left, less blest than they 
 who sleep, 
 
 For they can feel no sorrow, I linger here to weep. 
 
 The sky is blue above me, the stream makes music still, 
 And still sweet flowers are blooming o'er every ver- 
 dant hill. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 241 
 
 The vines are clustering o'er me, as green as green 
 
 may be, 
 And gentle zepliyrs whisper through every waving tree ; 
 
 The wild birds flit around me, and merrily they sing, 
 Young spring is roaming o'er the land, there's life in 
 
 every thing ; 
 But happiness and gladness have fled those lonely 
 
 bowers. 
 And sadly, sadly now is changed that happy home of 
 
 ours. 
 
 Beneath the soft, rich garden sod my gentle mother 
 
 lies. 
 The rose has faded from her cheek, the lifelight from 
 
 her eyes ; 
 The god of evening o'er her grave his dewy gems doth 
 
 shed, 
 And flow'rets blossom on that breast which pillowed oft 
 
 my head. 
 
 Oh much I miss her loving smile, her gentle, tender 
 
 voice, 
 "Which in my hours of deepest woe could make my 
 
 heart rejoice ; 
 Since she has gone, no other one has loved me half so 
 
 well. 
 For her deep love and tenderness no tongue can ever 
 
 tell. 
 
242 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 I'm sitting 'neath thy shade, old tree, where oft I've 
 
 sat before, 
 And listened to the sighing winds in happy days of 
 
 yore, 
 And mournfully above my head thy bright green 
 
 branches wave; 
 A few more days, and they will throw their shadows 
 
 o'er my grave. 
 
 And then my worn and weary soul, by grief and sor- 
 row laden, 
 
 Will fly from earth and earthly cares, to that far dis- 
 tant aiden, 
 
 Where grief is lost in boundless bliss, where sorrows 
 all are o'er. 
 
 Where tears are wiped from every eye, and loved ones 
 part no more. 
 
 BLIGHTED FLOWERS. 
 
 Aurora, on her golden car, had chased the night away, 
 And brightly o'er the green hill-tops gleamed the first 
 
 tints of day ; 
 The birds among the dewy boughs had waked their 
 
 matin lays. 
 And every flower was sending up its silent hymn of 
 
 praise. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 243 
 
 The dew-drops hung upon the leaves like glittering 
 
 gems of gold, 
 And brightly through the flow'ry meads the silver 
 
 streamlets rolled ; 
 The air was filled with odors sweet, the sky was blue 
 
 and bright, 
 And gaily through the dark, green wood danced the 
 
 first rays of light. 
 
 Wooed by the beauty of the scene, I slowly wandered 
 forth 
 
 To taste in morning's balmy hour the loveliness of earth. 
 
 Amid the church-yard's silent shade I walked with 
 solemn tread. 
 
 Where drooping willows sadly moaned above the sleep- 
 ing dead ; 
 
 When slowly on the morning air soft, melting music 
 
 stole, 
 So sad and wild its numbers were, it thrilled my very 
 
 soul; 
 'Twas like some wandering angel's harp, to saddened 
 
 music strung. 
 As softly through the echoing wood its plaintive 
 
 accents rung. 
 
 I turned to sec from whence it came, and by a lowly 
 
 tomb, 
 Where clustering vines, and roses bright, shone 
 
 strangely 'mid the gloom. 
 
244 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 A fair young maiden lowly knelt, her eyes with tears 
 
 were dim, 
 And thus, in numbers soft and sweet, came forth her 
 
 morning hymn : 
 
 Bright spring is here, with her budding flowers, 
 Her emerald robes are on hill and lea. 
 
 They are wet with the dew of the pearly showers 
 That nurture and cherish their fragrancy. 
 
 But the spangles of dew to me seem as tears, 
 Which the flowers for thee, in weeping, have shed, 
 
 And each rose that I cull, in its beauty, appears 
 But another fresh tribute to him that is dead. 
 
 I'm alone, I'm alone, in this cold, dark world. 
 My blooming hopes were cut off in their prime, 
 
 The dreamings of bliss, illusive, have gone, 
 Which gladdened my heart in a former time. 
 
 I'm alone, I'm alone, since thou hast gone hence, 
 And no one remains to love me as thou ; 
 
 A feeling of loneliness dwells in my heart, 
 And a shadow of sorrow rests on my brow. 
 
 But soon, when my sorrowing days shall be o'er, 
 I'll sleep by thy side, 'neath this waving old tree ; 
 
 This lone breaking heart will soon throb no more, 
 And then thine own Mary will go unto thee. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 245 
 
 Months glided by — again I stood beneath the church- 
 yard shade, 
 
 And lo ! beside that lowly tomb another mound was 
 made, 
 
 And she, the young and beautiful, in all her maiden 
 pride, 
 
 Beneath the church-yard's cold, damp sod slept by her 
 lover's side. 
 
 With Christian meekness she had borne the weary 
 
 cares of life. 
 And sweetly shone her trusting faith amid the storm 
 
 and strife ; 
 But by the chilling blasts of grief, the cords of life 
 
 were riven. 
 And her young spirit went to dwell with him she loved 
 
 in heaven. 
 
 I stood and gazed upon their tombs with sad and tear- 
 ful eye. 
 
 The leaves lay withered on their breasts, the autumn 
 winds swept by, 
 
 And, as they whistled thro' the trees, a requiem seemed 
 to sing 
 
 O'er those two fair, young blighted flowers cut oflf in 
 youth's bright spring. 
 
 V^- 
 
246 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 THE INQUIRY. 
 
 There comes 
 For ever something between us and what 
 We deem our happiness. Byron. 
 
 Bright bird of the forest, come listen to me ; 
 Thy wing's like a sunbeam, thy song wild and free, 
 Thy nest is suspended amid the bright bowers, 
 Thy lamp is the dew drop, thy covering the flowers, 
 I have sought ftir and wide to find e'en one heart 
 Which ne'er felt the force of sorrow's keen dart, 
 Little bird of the forest, then tell me, I pray. 
 If thou art not always both gladsome and gay ? 
 
 I'm singing in the forest. 
 
 My song is wild and glad, 
 , But often, very often. 
 
 My little heart is sad. 
 My wing now like a sunbeam, 
 
 Will soon be cold and still. 
 And the music of my gushing song 
 
 For ever cease to thrill ; 
 When the summer flowers have faded. 
 
 And the autumn winds go by. 
 Lonely, in the dreary forest, 
 
 I must lay me down and die. 
 
 Bright flower of the valley, sweet child of the spring. 
 What message of joy to my heart dost thou bring ? 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 247 
 
 Thy buds are all radiant with emerald and gold, 
 And thy young leaves in rosetints are gaily unrolled ; 
 I know that no cares can tliy pleasures alloy, 
 Thou seemest a spirit of beauty and joy ; 
 Then tell me, sweet flow'ret, for fain would I know. 
 Is there one child of earth unmolested by woe ? 
 
 My buds are bright and rosy, 
 
 My leaves are green and gay. 
 And merrily around me. 
 
 The silken zephyrs play ; 
 But come at early morning, 
 
 Or when the night winds sigh, 
 And you'll see the dewy tear-drops 
 
 Glistening in my azure eye. 
 The golden spring is passing. 
 
 Which gave my beauties birth, 
 And through the lonely winter 
 
 I must slumber in the earth. 
 
 Thou bright little cherub, come listen to me. 
 And hush for a moment thy gladness and glee, 
 Thy cheeks are like roses, thy forehead is fair. 
 Like a snow wreath beneath the dark cloud of thy hair ; 
 Thy voice is so gladsome, thy laughter so gay, 
 They drive for a moment my sadness away ; 
 Thou bright little cherub, come hither and tell 
 If ever a care in thy young heart doth dwell ? 
 
248 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 I saw a painted butterfly, 
 
 With bright and golden wing, 
 And through the leafy forest, 
 
 I chased the gaudy thing. 
 It hovered on a flow'ret, 
 
 I stooped to grasp my prize, 
 But ere my hand had touched it, 
 
 It vanished from my eyes ; 
 Before, my heart was happy. 
 
 My song was wild and glad, 
 I'm weary now, and lonely. 
 
 And very, very sad. 
 
 Fair maiden, thy cheek is as bright as the rose. 
 And the dreamings of love in thy soft eye repose, 
 Thy smile is as bright as the first golden ray 
 That gilds with its glory the coming of day. 
 In thee all the graces of woman combine. 
 And the proud and the noble bow low at thy shrine ; 
 Then tell me, sweet maiden, doth grief e'er molest, 
 Or shadow the dreamings of thy gentle breast ? 
 
 My brow is wreathed with sunshine, 
 
 My song is gay and glad, 
 But know, the lips may wear a smile, 
 
 When the heart is lone and sad. 
 The flowers that decked my pathway 
 
 Are withered, cold and dead. 
 
BRIEF POEMS. 249 
 
 The love my young heart cherished, 
 
 For evermore has fled, 
 The star of hope, that decked my sky, 
 
 Has set in endless gloom. 
 My heart is lone and weary, 
 
 I would slumber in the tomb. 
 
 Grifted one, on thy brow Fame's laurel wreath beams, 
 And on glory's high arch thy name brightly gleams, 
 'Neath the sound of thy voice, lofty heads are bowed low. 
 And from Beauty's soft eyes the bright tear-drops flow, 
 And art thou not happy ? Dost ever repine ? 
 When the great and the noble bow down at thy shrine, 
 When glory and honor and fame are thine own, 
 Worshiped one, is thy spirit e'er weary and lone ? 
 
 Fame's bright and glittering jewels, 
 
 Press heavy on my brow, 
 And my heart ere I had won them, 
 
 Was lighter far than now. 
 Though nations bow before me. 
 
 And Fame's green wreath is mine, 
 For a source of purer pleasure 
 
 My lonely heart doth pine. 
 I would give back all the glory, 
 
 The flattery and praise. 
 To feel again the pleasure 
 
 Of boyhood's sunny days. 
 
250 BRIEF POEMS. 
 
 Aged one, thou art wandering o'er life's thorny way, 
 With no kind voice to cheer thee, no arm for thy stay; 
 Thy manhood has faded, thy loved ones have gone, 
 And aged and friendless, thou wanderest alone ; 
 There's a smile on thy lips, and joy in thine eye, 
 And thy song, sweet and gladsome, floats up to the sky; 
 Can it be that thy spirit is peaceful and glad, 
 When all else on earth is mourning and sad ? 
 
 I know my path is lonely, 
 
 My footsteps weak and slow, 
 And the frosts of time are glistening 
 
 Upon my aged brow ; 
 Before me Jordan's waters 
 
 Are rolling dark and drear, 
 They cannot now dismay me, 
 
 Or fill my heart with fear, 
 For God is my protector. 
 
 And will my steps attend. 
 Oh, how can I be cheerless 
 
 When Jesus is my friend. 
 Though the path is lone and thorny. 
 
 O'er which my footsteps roam, 
 My ransomed soul is happy, 
 
 For yonder is my home. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 t28 
 
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