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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/14955-8.txt b/14955-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8a2abb8 --- /dev/null +++ b/14955-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3223 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Kings and Queens of England with Other +Poems, by Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Kings and Queens of England with Other Poems + +Author: Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow + +Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14955] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KINGS AND QUEENS *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Tozier, Barbara Tozier, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + [Inscription: I will add a few words respecting my kings and + Queens. + + They were hastily written from the impulse of the moment, for my + own entertainment, and that of my youngest grand-daughter, without + the remotest idea of printing them. This is my apology for the + careless, familiar style in which they were composed. At the + request of my children I concluded to print them, when it would + have been highly proper to have furnished my royal personages with + a dress more befitting the occasion. But the state of my eyes + rendered it very inconvenient, if not hazardous to attempt it. + And as they are only intended to visit a few of my friends, I + trust to their good nature to excuse the homely garb in which they + are presented.] + + + + +THE + +KINGS AND QUEENS OF ENGLAND + +WITH + +OTHER POEMS + + +BY + + +MARY ANN H.T. BIGELOW + + + +PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR + +MDCCCLIII. + + + + +TO THE +COMPANION OF HER YOUTH, MIDDLE AGE, AND DECLINING YEARS, +THE FOLLOWING POEMS ARE INSCRIBED +BY HIS +AFFECTIONATE WIFE, + +MARY ANN H.T. BIGELOW. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +I must claim the indulgence of my friends for the many defects they will +find in my poems, which they will please wink at, remembering that I was +sixty years old when I commenced rhyming; and this by way of experiment, +while on a visit to my daughter, in Brooklyn. + +My first essay, was The Monarchs of England. I took it up for my +amusement, wishing to ascertain how much of that history I could recollect +without help from any other source than memory. + +The rhyme is in many places far from smooth, and there are many +redundances that might with advantage be lopped off; and were it to come +under the critic's eye to be reviewed, I should feel it quite necessary to +improve it, (the poetry, I mean.) But as it would require quite too much +exertion for my eyes in their present state, and as the history, dates, +&c., I believe, are correct, I send it to the press "with all its +imperfections on its head." + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + Kings and Queens of England + To my Daughter Elizabeth + Acrostic + The Evening of Life + An Acrostic + An Acrostic + Written upon receiving a New Year's Gift + Lines to the Memory of Patrick Kelley + My S.S. Class + For my Grandsons, Eddie and Allie + For my Granddaughters, M. and L., an Acrostic + To my Friend, Mrs.R. + To my Niece, Angeline + An Acrostic + An Acrostic + She slumbers still + To a Friend in the City + Reply + Rejoinder to the foregoing Reply + To my Friend, Mr.J. Ellis + A Pastoral + The Jessamine + For the Sabbath School Concert + Feed my Lambs + God is Love + To my Friend, Mrs. Lloyd + Escape of the Israelites + Ordination Hymn + Margaret's Remembrance of Lightfoot + The Clouds return after the Rain + The Nocturnal Visit + Sovereignty and Free Agency + Autumn and Sunset + "My times are in thy hand" + November + Winter + Life's Changes + "They will not frame their doings" + "Take no thought for the morrow" + Reminiscences of the Departed + "Let me die the death of the righteous" + The Great Physician + To my Niece, Mrs. M.A. Caldwell + The Morning Drive, for my Daughter Margaret + Reply to a Toast + To Mr. C.R. + To my Missionary Friends + To my Husband + + + + +POEMS. + + + + +THE KINGS AND QUEENS OF ENGLAND, + +FROM THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS OR THE NORMAN CONQUEST, TO THE PRESENT REIGN, +INCLUSIVE. + + +First, William the Norman lays claim to the crown +And retains it till death; then follows his son +The red headed William, whose life is cut short +By a shot from his friend, when hunting for sport. +Then Henry his brother takes quiet possession, +As Henry the first, of the great English nation. +Next Stephen, a kinsman gets the crown by his might, +But no one pretends to say he had a right. +Then comes Hal the second, who cuts a great figure +With Becket, fair Rosamond and Queen Eliner. +The Lion-hearted _Richard_, first of that name, +Succeeded his father in power and in fame; +He joined the Crusade to a far distant land +But his life was cut short by a murderous hand. +Next comes the _cruel_ and _cowardly_ John, +From whose hand, reluctant, Magna Charta was won. +Then his son Henry third, deny it who can? +Though unfit for a King, was yet a good man, +And his reign though a long one of fifty-six years +Was full of perplexities, sorrows, and fears. +His son Edward first next governs the nation, +Much respected and feared, in holding that station. +The Principality of Wales was annexed in his reign, +And his son Edward second, first Prince of that name. +But what shall I say of King Edward the third, +The most remarkable reign, that yet had occurred; +Fire arms in the war, were _first_ used in his reign, +And the battle of _Cressy_ of great note and fame, +To their introduction has the right to lay claim. +The knights of the Garter, first made in his reign +In honor it seems of a fair English dame, +The Duchess of Salisbury to whom it is said, +From Edward _peculiar_ attentions were paid. +Of Richard the second we have little to say, +And take up the fourth Henry, the next on our way, +Who reigned fourteen years, when death cut him down +And left his good Kingdom to Henry his son; +But ere nine years had past, the fifth Henry was borne +To the region of darkness from whence none return. +The next reign is full of commotion and strife, +And Henry the sixth is seen flying for life; +For though King of England, we cannot but see +He's but the shadow of a king--that _should_ be; +And during the thirty-nine years that he reigned +His crown and his sceptre were feebly retained. +It was in this reign on her mission intent, +That Joan of Arc to the battle field went: +The French troops were elated, the English dismayed +At the wonderful victories achieved by her aid; +At length fortune turns, and 'tis needless to tell +Of the fate of this maiden--it is all known too well. +Of Edward the fourth it seems proper to say +That he fancied Dame Shore, when wed to Bess Gray. +But the fate of Jane Shore, should be warning to all +Who from love, or ambition, are tempted to fall. +When Edward the fourth departed this earth, +He left two little sons, both Royal by birth; +But ere three years had pass'd, both met with their doom, +By a most cruel uncle, cut down in their bloom +Of youth, love, and beauty, and laid in the tomb. +King Edward the fifth was the eldest one's name, +Though never permitted by his uncle to reign. +Next comes cruel Richard, the third of that name, +Whose vices surpassing put others to shame. +When unhorsed in battle, he's so anxious to live, +That he cries "for a horse, my kingdom I'll give." +But in the same battle he had his last fall-- +Lamented by none, but detested by all. +In the next reign the wars of the roses, all ended, +And the red rose and white, forever were blended; +For when Henry the seventh took Bessy his bride, +The knot of the roses forever was tied; +And when the sceptre descended from father to son, +The red and the white leaves all mingled in one. +King Henry the eighth had quite a long reign +Mixed up with his Anne's, his Katy's and Jane. +But from this King we turn with disgust and with shame, +And greet with delight, the sixth Edward by name. +But only six years did this King fill the throne, +When called to resign it and lay his crown down. +A worthier we think, has never set +On the throne of Great Britain--at least not as yet. +With pleasure we love to contemplate him now, +With a bright crown of Glory, encircling his brow, +In the region of _light, love, peace_, and of joy, +Where pleasures eternal can have no alloy. +Sin, sickness, and death, never find entrance there, +For the air is all balm, and the skies ever fair; +The clouds of his young life have all passed away +And he enjoys the full light of an endless day-- +For all who find footing on that peaceful shore, +Shall hunger, and thirst, and sorrow no more. +But once more we return to this "dim speck of earth," +And revisit the clime that gave Edward his birth. +Bloody Mary his sister, next mounted the throne, +But when five years had pass'd, was obliged to lay down, +Notwithstanding reluctance, her Sceptre and Crown. +For death to whom she had sent many a one, +Now called for his victim, and made her his own. +Not by _fire_ and by _faggot_ was _she_ hurried away, +But by painful sickness and loathsome decay. +Now commences the reign of the "Good Queen Bess," +But _why_ she's called _good_ I never could guess: +Yet justice constrains me to allow in the main, +That her's was a glorious and most prosperous reign. +She had the good sense to know whom to admit +To her private councils, as men the most fit; +And by their advice, good sense and discretion, +She managed with _fitness_ to govern the nation. +As a Queen she seems great, though _weak_ as a woman, +And when praised as a _Goddess_, was no more than human; +At the age of threescore, she loved to be compared +As a beauty to Venus, though crook'd and red haired. +Of lovers she had full many a one, +Who sought, through her hand, a pass to the throne, +But chose to remain single; for full well she knew, +That in giving her hand, she gave away her power too. +In this reign we find ineffacible blots, +In the treatment of Essex, and Mary of Scots; +The death of the former, the Queen sorely repents, +And for her lost Essex she deeply laments. +The remorse of a Countess, in keeping his ring, +I leave to some rhymer, more able to sing. +Next James sixth of Scotland, _first_ of England became-- +In peace and security permitted to reign. +In the person of James, two crowns were united, +And England and Scotland remain undivided. +With this king the reign of the Stuarts began, +And continued to the end of the reign of Queen Ann. +In the reign of Charles first, commences a strife +Between King and Parliament, that ends but with life; +This poor King was beheaded, his son had to flee, +And in his place Oliver Cromwell we see. +Now in Cromwell the ruler of England we find; +Right or wrong, I never could make up my mind; +Still all must allow (for deny it who can?) +That this same Oliver was a very great man. +In eleven years the days of the Commonwealth ended. +And gay Charles the second, the throne then ascended. +This second king Charles king of hearts might be call'd, +For many a fair one he seems t' have enthrall'd. +James second, brother of Charles second succeeded, +But after a reign of four years, he seceded; +When quitting his throne, and his country he flies +Over the channel to France, where he dies. +Next the Prince of Orange, (from Holland he came,) +For the crown of old England, asserted his claim +Through right of his wife, Princess Mary by name. +And William the third with Mary his wife +Are crowned King and Queen of England for life. +This princess was lovely in person and mind, +As a wife most devoted, a _friend ever_ kind. +Queen Ann's is the next reign that in order appears +And it covers the space of thirteen full years. +Her death brought the reign of the Stuarts to a close, +But firm on their ruins, the House of Hanover rose. +With this house the reign of the Georges begins-- +And four in succession we count up as Kings. +George the third, grandson of the second, so called, +Was for virtues and goodness of heart much extolled. +His reign the longest of any appears, +Bearing title of king for sixty-two years. +But when aged four score, this good king we find +Bereft of his senses and hearing, and blind. +In this reign America declared herself free, +And independent of rulers over the sea. +At length death relieved him, and he was cut down, +To make way for his eldest and libertine son. +But though of talent acknowledged the son possessed more, +The _sire's heart was good_, the _son's corrupt at the core_; +Though admired for his beauty, and manners, and wit, +As a husband and father he never was fit. +But before we pass on to the next reign in course, +We have a most sorrowful tale to rehearse, +Of the young princess Charlotte, next heir to the crown, +In the spring time of life, scarce with warning cut down. +If ever the nation were mourners sincere, +'Twas when they united around the sad bier +Of this youthful princess so deservedly dear; +And stout-hearted men unaccustomed to mourn, +Let bitter tears fall, as they gazed on her urn. +But who can describe the anguish of one, +The heart-stricken husband apart and alone. +As the sun of his happiness rose to its height, +Death enters his dwelling, and lo! it is night; +The light of his house forever has fled, +For his loved one, his dearest, lies low with the dead. +In the _same_ day all his fair prospects were crossed, +When a _wife_, and a _son_, and a _kingdom_ he lost. +Next William the fourth, is proclaimed Britain's king, +For between him and his brother two deaths intervene. +No _legitimate_ child did he leave in possession +Of the Crown of old England, in right of succession; +So the diadem passed to the youthful brow +Of his niece Queen Victoria, who honors it now; +And for her we wish, as our rhyming we close, +A _long, peaceful reign_--an old age of repose. + +Written while on a visit at Brooklyn, N.Y., 1851. + + + + +TO MY DAUGHTER ELIZABETH. + + +Two flowers upon one parent stem +Together bloomed for many days. +At length a storm arose, and _one_ +Was blighted, and cut down at noon. + +The other hath transplanted been, +And flowers _fair_ as _herself_ hath borne; +She too has felt the withering storm, +Her strength's decayed, wasted her form. + +May he who hears the mourner's prayer, +Renew her strength for years to come; +Long may He our Lilly spare, +Long delay to call her home. + +But when the summons shall arrive +To bear this lovely flower away, +Again may she transplanted be +To blossom in eternity. + +There may these sisters meet again, +Both freed from sorrow, sin, and pain; +There with united voices raise, +In sweet accord their hymns of praise; +Eternally his name t' adore, +Who died, yet _lives forevermore_. + +Weston, Jan. 3, 1852. + + + + +ACROSTIC. + + +For thee, my son, a mother's earnest prayer +Rises to Heaven each day from heart sincere, +Anxiously seeking what concerns thee most; +Not merely earthly good for thee she prays, +Knowledge, or wealth, or fame, or length of days, +What shall these profit, if the soul be lost. + +In this life we find alternate day and night, +Not always darkness, _sure not always_ light; +'Tis well it should be so, we're travellers here, +Home, _that_ "sweet home," the Christian's place of rest, +Rises by faith to view when most distressed: +Oh! this life past--mayst thou find entrance there. + +Perplexed, distressed, sick, or by friends betrayed, +Beset with snares, deprived of human aid, +In all thy sorrows whatsoe'er they be, +Go to the Saviour, tell him all thy need, +Entreat his pity, he's a friend indeed; +Lay hold by faith on _Him_, and he will succor thee. +Oh, do not live for this dull world alone, +When with the _Angels_ thou mayst find a home. + +Jan. 1853. + + + + +THE EVENING OF LIFE. + + +As the shadows of evening around me are falling, +With its dark sombre curtain outspread, +And night's just at hand, chilly night so appalling, +And day's brilliant sunshine hath fled, + +It is e'en so with me, for the eve of my day +Has arrived, yet I scarcely know how; +Bright morn hath departed, and noon passed away, +And 'tis evening, _pale_ eve with me now. + +Oh! where are the friends who in life's early morn, +With me did their journey commence; +Some are estranged, while some few still remain, +And others departed long since. + +And when I too, like them, shall be summoned away, +And the shadows of death on me fall, +Be thou the Great Shepherd of Israel but near, +My Saviour, my God, and my all. + +And though the "dark valley" we all must pass through, +Yet surely no evil can harm +The _sheep_, when the Shepherd is walking there too, +And supports them by his mighty arm. + +Oh! my Redeemer, wilt thou be with me then, +And food for my journey provide, +Divide the dark waters of Jordan again, +And safe in thy bosom me hide. + +Though wild beasts of the desert may roar long and loud, +And the billows of ocean rise high, +With thy rod and thy staff for my strength and support, +I shall pass them in safety all by. + +And having crossed Jordan, on Canaan's bright shore +With what joy shall I take a survey, +And reflect that the dangers of life are all o'er, +And with unclouded vision enjoy evermore +The bright sun of an endless day. + +Weston, Feb. 4, 1852. + + + + +AN ACROSTIC. + + +Merry, merry little child, +Active, playful, sometimes wild; +Rosy cheeks, and ringlets rare, +Glossy black, with eyes compare. +_All, all_ these belong to thee, +Right pleasant little Margerie. +Every good, dear child, be given +Thee on earth, and rest in heaven. +But who thy future lot can see? +All, _every_ page is hid from me; +Xtended through eternity, +Thy life so late begun will be. +Earnest seek to know the truth, +Remember God in early youth; +When in his sacred courts thou art, +Engage in worship thy _whole heart_; +Listen to what the preacher says, +Listen to prayers, and list to praise, +In nothing see thou dost offend, +Nor fail the Sabbath _well_ to spend. +Give to thy parents honor due, +Thy sisters love, and brothers too; +Oh! good and happy mayst thou be, +Now and ever, Margerie. + + + + +AN ACROSTIC. + + +Cannot happiness perfect be found on this earth? +How absurd to expect it--sin comes with our birth. +As soon from spring bitter, sweet water procure, +Rich clusters of grapes from the thorn; +Look for figs upon thistles, when seeking for food, +Or bread from the cold flinty stone. +The wealth of the Indies, _true_ peace can't bestow, +The Crown Royal oft presses an aching brow, +E'en in laughter there's madness--mirth coupled with woe. + +As true peace in this world, then, can never be found, +Until deep in the heart Christian graces abound, +Give diligent heed to the keeping thy heart; +Unwearied in effort, repel every dart +So dextrously pointed by Satan's black art. +True peace is from Heaven--a child of the skies, +And feeble exertions secure not the prize. + +Never falter in duty, but trust in that power +Engaged to support you in each trying hour; +When sinking like Peter amidst the dark wave, +Ever look unto Jesus, almighty to save. +Look _to_ him, live _like_ him, be strong in his might, +Lay thy _burden_ on him, and thy _cross_ he'll make light. + + + + +WRITTEN UPON RECEIVING A NEW YEAR'S GIFT. + + +I have a little Grandchild dear, +Who sends to me on each new year + A valuable present: +Not costly gift from store-house bought, +But one that her own hands have wrought, + Therefore to me more pleasant. + +Accept, dear child, the wish sincere, +For you much happiness this year, + And length of days be given; +Here may you act well your part, +Serving the Lord with all your heart, + And find your rest in heaven. + +Jan. 1852. + + + + +LINES + +TO THE MEMORY OF PATRICK KELLEY, WHO BY HIS MANY GOOD QUALITIES DURING +SOME YEARS' RESIDENCE IN MY FAMILY, GREATLY ENDEARED HIMSELF TO ME AND +MINE. + + +From Erin's fair Isle to this country he came, +And found brothers and sisters to welcome him here; +Though then but a youth, yet robust seemed his frame, +And life promised fair for many a long year. + +A place was soon found where around the same board, +He with two of his sisters did constantly meet; +And when his day's work had all been performed, +At the _same_ fireside he found a third seat. + +His faithfulness such, so true-hearted was he, +That love in return could not be denied; +_As one of the family_--he soon ceased to be +The stranger, who lately for work had applied. + +Youth passed into manhood, and with it there came +New duties to fill, new plans to pursue; +But a fatal disease now seizes his frame, +And with health is his strength fast leaving him too. + +From his home in the country to the city he went, +Where kind brothers procured him good medical aid; +But all was in vain--Death commissioned was sent, +And soon his remains in the cold grave were laid. + +The broad waves of Atlantic lie rolling between +His brothers and sisters and parents on earth; +And never by parents may those children be seen, +Or the latter revisit the land of their birth. + +But sooner or later they all must be borne +To that region of darkness from whence none return; +Oh! then may they meet on Canaan's bright shore, +An _unbroken household_ to part nevermore. + +Weston, Jan. 1852. + + + + +MY S.S. CLASS. + + +I now will endeavor, while fresh in my mind, +My Sabbath School Class to portray; +The theme's furnished for me, I've only to find +Colors to blend, their forms to display. + +And first on the canvass we'll Adeline place, +With her full and expressive dark eye; +Decision of purpose is stamped on that face, +And good scholarship too we descry. + +Next in order comes Alice, with bright sunny smile, +That does one's heart good to behold; +May the sorrows of life ne'er that young spirit blight, +Nor that heart be less cheerful when old. + +But who's this that we see, with that mild pensive air, +And a look so expressively kind? +It is Ann, gentle Ann, before whom we pass by, +We will add--'t would be useless in any to try +Disposition more lovely to find. + +The next is a bright noble face we espy, +'Tis a boy of ten years we shall find; +There's a spice of the rogue in that merry young eye, +With good sense and good nature combined. + +It's young master Alpheus--we never have found +One more punctual at school hour than he; +He's now but a lad, yet who knows when a _man_, +But a _Judge in our land_ he may be. + +Next comes little Moggy, our dear little Moggy, +But before she is brought out to view, +We'll new colors select, add fresh tints to the whole, +And spread all on our pallet anew. + +And now she appears in her own proper size, +Her cheeks colored by nature's warm glow; +With her full lustrous and speaking black eyes, +And rich ringlets that grace her young brow. + +Walter's the last on the painting we see, +Little Walter, the youngest of all; +Look! he's repeating his lesson just now, +Mark the expression on that infant brow, +He's a _wonder_, for scholar so small. + +But there's one in this grouping we look for in vain, +Whose image we often recall; +How mournfully sweet is the sound of thy name, +Dear Elbridge, the loved one of all. + +Thou wert called in the freshness of morning away, +By him who all things doeth well; +The rest for brief periods are suffered to stay, +How long, we may none of us tell. + +May the Holy Book studied in this Sabbath School, +Be more precious than silver or gold; +Be its doctrines received, and its precepts obeyed, +And _rich treasures_ it still will unfold. + +And when one by one we shall all pass away, +To me, oh! my Father, be given +The joy that no heart upon earth can conceive, +To meet all in the kingdom of Heaven. + +Weston, Feb. 17, 1852. + + + + +FOR MY GRANDSONS, EDDY AND ALLY. + + +I here engage +Upon this page + A picture to portray, +Of two of an age +Yet neither a sage, + But right honest hearts have they. +Each loves to play +And have his own way, +Yet I'm happy to say + They quarrel, if ever, but seldom. +Though competent quite +To maintain their own right, +And even to fight, + Yet peace to their bosom is welcome. +Both go to school, +And learn by rule + That in neither a dunce we may find; +Both read and spell +And like it well; + Thus with pleasure is profit combined. +One's eyes are black, +The other's blue; + They both have honest hearts and true, + And love each other dearly: +One's father, is brother +To the other one's mother, + So cousins german are they most clearly; +Each has a father, +And each has a mother, + And both do dearly love him; +But neither a sister, +And neither a brother, + To _play_ with, or to _plague_ him. +And here I propose, +Ere I come to a close, + A little advice to give; +To which if they heed, +They'll be better indeed, + And happier as long as they live. +Be sure to mind +Your parents kind, + And do nothing to vex or tease them; +But through each day +Heed what they say, + And strive to obey and please them. +Take not in vain +God's holy name, +Do not work, +Do not play +On God's holy day, + Nor from church stay away; +Always bear it in mind +To be gentle and kind, +And friends you will find, +And hearts to you bind, + I am sure I may venture to say. +And when you're men, +Who sees you then + I hope in you models will see, +Of _good_ and _great_, +In _Church_ and _State_, + Whose lips with your lives agree. + +Weston, Feb. 1852. + + + + +FOR MY GRAND-DAUGHTERS, M. AND L.--AN ACROSTIC. + + +Mary and Lily--how sweet are those names, +Allied as they are to my heart and my home; +Recalling with freshness the days that are past, +Yielding buds of sweet promise for days yet to come. + +Links are these names to the chain that hath bound +In fetters my heart, to which still they lay claim; +Loved ones and lovely, still close by me found, +Years past, and time present, whose names are the same. + +Enshrined in this bosom, is living one now, +Still youthful and truthful, and talented too, +Though years have elapsed since she passed from our view; +E'en in Summer midst roses in beauty and bloom, +She faded away, and was borne to the tomb. + +Weston, March 5, 1852. + + + + +FOR MY FRIEND MRS. R. + + +When writing to you, friend, a subject I'd find +In which there's both pleasure and profit combined, +And though what I've chosen may pain in review, +Yet still there's strange mingling of pleasure there too. +Then let us go back many years that are past, +And glance at those days _much too happy to last_. +I have seen thee, my friend, when around thy bright hearth +Not a seat was found vacant, but gladness and mirth +Kept high holiday there, and many a time +Were mingled in pastime my children with thine. +I've looked in again, the destroyer had come, +And changed the whole aspect of that happy home. +He entered that dwelling, and rudely he tore +From the arms of his mother, her most cherished flower. +Thy heart seemed then broken, oh! how couldst thou bear +To live in this world, and thy idol not here? +Oh! heart-stricken mother, thou didst not then know +All the bitter ingredients in thy cup of woe. +The hand of thy father that cup had prepared, +Each drop needful for thee, not one could be spared. +Ere thy first wound had healed, while bleeding and sore, +Death entered again, and a fair daughter bore +From home of her childhood, to return never more. +How painful the shock, for in striking that blow +A child, parent, sister, and wife was laid low. +Thy strength seemed unequal that shock to sustain, +But death was not satiate, he soon called again, +And tears and entreaties were powerless to save +Another dear daughter from death and the grave. +Like a fair lily when droops its young head, +With little of suffering her mild spirit fled. +She was thy namesake, to her young friends most dear; +So many thy trials, so heavy to bear, +It seemed that much longer thou couldst not survive; +_How much can the human heart bear and yet live_. +Up to this time there had always been one +Who shared in thy trials and made them his own; +Many years his strong arm had support been to thee, +The friend of thy youth, thy kind husband was he. +He's ever been with thee in weal and in woe, +But the time's just at hand when he too must go. +The bolt fell not single, it pierced the slight form +Of a child, too fragile to weather the storm; +The summons that took her dear father away +Seemed her young heart to break, she could not here stay, +And now in deep slumber they side by side lay. +I have felt, my dear friend, as I've witnessed thy grief, +How inadequate language to give thee relief; +And that _real relief_ could never be found +Except from the hand that inflicted the wound. +In the furnace of fire thou wert not alone, +For walking beside thee had ever been one, +The kindest of friends, though thou could'st not him see, +For the scales on thine eyes weighed them down heavily. +Those scales have now fallen; look up, thou canst see +That look of compassion, it's fixed upon thee. +Raise thine eyes once again, see that head crowned with thorns; +In those feet, hands, and side, see the deep bleeding wounds. +You now know full well why such suffering was borne, +'Twas for thee, and for me, and for every one +Who trusts in his merits and on him alone. +Thy day is just passed, 'tis now evening with thee, +But the faith of the Christian is given to see +The star of bright promise, amid the dark gloom +Which shall light all thy footsteps and gild the lone tomb; +And at the last day mayst thou and thine stand +An _unbroken household_ at Jesus' right hand. + +March 27, 1852. + + + + +FOR MY NIECE ANGELINE. + + +In the morning of life, when all things appear bright, +And far in the distance the shadows of night, +With kind parents still spared thee, and health to enjoy, +What period more fitting thy powers to employ +In the service of him, who his own life has given +To procure thee a crown and a mansion in Heaven. +As a dream that is gone at the breaking of day, +And a tale that's soon told, so our years pass away. +"Then count that day lost, whose low setting sun +Can see from thy hand no worthy act done." +Midst the roses of life many thorns thou wilt find, +"But the cloud that is darkest, with silver is lined." +As the children of Israel were led on their way +By the bright cloud at night, and the dark cloud by day, +So the Christian is led through the straight narrow road +That brings him direct to his home and his God; +And when the last stage of life's journey is o'er, +And Jordan's dark waves can affright him no more, +When safely arrived in his own promised land, +He's permitted with Saints and with Angels to stand, +Then weighed in the balance how light will appear +All the sorrows of life, with his blissful state there. +Oh! let us by faith take a view of him now, +See the crown of bright jewels encircling his brow; +His old tattered robe swept away by the flood, +Is replaced by a new one, the gift of his Lord; +The hand of his Saviour that garment hath wrought, +It is pure stainless white, free from wrinkle and spot. +The streets that he walks in are pavėd with gold, +And yet it's transparent as glass we are told; +The pure river of water of life is in view, +And for healing the nations, the tree of life too. +There's no need of a candle or sun there, for night +Is excluded forever--the Lord God is their light. +But here we will stop, for no tongue can declare, +No heart may conceive what the Saints enjoy there. +And these joys may be ours--oh! how blissful the thought, +Ours without money, without price may be bought. +For us they've been purchased by the Son of God, +At an infinite price--_his own precious blood_. +They wait our acceptance, may be ours if we choose, +'Tis _life_ to accept them,--'tis _death_ to refuse. + +Weston, May 15, 1862. + + + + +AN ACROSTIC. + + +Ah! what is this life? It's a dream, is the reply; +Like a dream that's soon ended, so life passes by. +Pursue the thought further, still there's likeness in each, +How constant our aim is at what we can't reach. +E'en so in a dream, we've some object in view +Unceasingly aimed at, but the thing we pursue +Still eludes our fond grasp, and yet lures us on too. + +How analagous this to our waking day hours, +Unwearied our efforts, we tax all our powers; +Betimes in the morning the prize we pursue, +By the pale lamp of midnight we're seeking it too; +At all times and seasons, this _same fancied good_ +Repels our advances, yet still is pursued, +Depriving us oft, of rest needful, and food. +But there's a pearl of great price, whose worth is untold, +It can never he purchased with silver or gold; +Great peace it confers upon all to whom given, +Ever cheering their pathway, and pointing to heaven. +Look not to this world for a prize of such worth, +Or hope _that_ to obtain from this perishing earth +Whose essence is spiritual, and heavenly its birth. + +Weston, June 6, 1862. + + + + +ACROSTIC. + + +Even now I seem to see thee, +Lovely boy, with thy sweet smile, +Bright and beautiful as when +Reading that holy book, the while +I listened to thee, little dreaming, +Docile, gentle, pleasant child, +God who gave, _so soon would take thee_, +Even thee, so _sweet_, so _mild_. +But how merciful in chastening +Our father is--oh! bless his name-- +Your little face was decked with smiles, +Dear child, just when the summons came. +Escaped from lingering sickness, thou hadst +Nought to mar thy little frame. +While ye mourn the dear departed, +Each bitter feeling disallow; +Look to heaven, ye broken hearted, +Look, and with submission bow. +In thy hour of deepest sorrow, +Never murmur, dare not blame; +God, who wounds, alone can heal thee; +Trust his power and praise his name. +Oh! may we say, _each_, every one, +"Not my will, but thine be done." + + + + +SHE SLUMBERS STILL. + + +On a midsummer's eve she lay down to sleep, +Wearied and toil-worn the maiden was then; +How deep was that slumber, how quiet that rest, +'Twas the sleep from which no one awakens again. + +Morn returned in its freshness, and flowers that she loved +In beauty and fragrance were blooming around; +The birds caroled sweetly the whole live-long day, +But that strange mystic sleep all her senses had bound. + +Day followed day until summer was gone, +And autumn still found her alone and asleep; +Stern winter soon followed, but its loud blasts and shrill, +Were powerless to rouse her from slumber so deep. + +Again spring returns, and all nature revives, +And birds fill the groves with their music again; +But the eyes and the ears of that loved one are closed, +And on her these rich treasures are lavished in vain. + +Unheeded by her the winter snow falls, +Its beautiful garment spring puts on in vain; +Many _summers_ the birds her sad requiem have sung, +But to sound of sweet music she'll ne'er wake again. + +There is _but one voice_ that deep slumber can break, +'Tis the same one that loudly called, "Lazarus, come forth!" +At the sound of that voice all the dead shall arise, +And before God shall stand all the nations on earth. + +Then shall this dear one, our first born, awake, +Her mortal put on immortality then; +And oh! blissful thought, that we once more may meet +In that home where's no parting, death, sorrow, or pain. + +Weston, May 29, 1852. + + + + +TO A FRIEND IN THE CITY, + +FROM HER FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY. + + +By especial request I take up my pen, +To write a few lines to my dear Mrs. N.; +And though nothing of depth she has right to expect; +Yet the _will_ for the _deed_ she will not reject +The task, on reflection, is a heavy one quite, +As here in the country we've no news to write; +For what is to _us_ very _new_, rich, and rare, +To you in the city is stale and thread bare. +Should I write of Hungary, Kossuth, or the Swede, +They are all out of date, antiquated indeed. +I might ask you with me the New Forest to roam, +But it's stript of its foliage, quite leafless become; +N.P. Willis and rival have each had their day, +And of rappings and knockings there's nought new to say. +Yet do not mistake me, or think I would choose, +A home in the city, the country to lose; +The music of birds, with rich fruits and sweet flowers, +We all in the country lay claim to as ours. +A bird that's imprisoned, I hate to hear sing, +Let me catch its glad note as it soars on the wing; +Its carol so sweet as it's floating along, +It seems the Creator to praise in its song. +With the sweetest of poets I often exclaim, +"God made the country,"--let the pride of man claim +The town with its buildings, its spires, and its domes, +But leave us in the country our sweet quiet homes. +The scenery around us is lovely to view, +It charmed when a _child_, and at three-score charms too. +Then leave me the country with its birds, fruits, and flowers, +And the _town_, with its pleasures and crowds, may be yours. +E'en in winter the country has right to the claim +Of charms equal to summer; to be sure, not the same. +See winter, stern monarch, as borne on the gale, +He comes armed _cap-a-pie_ in his white coat of mail; +Behold what a change he hath wrought in _one_ night, +He has robed the whole country in _pure spotless white_. +He fails not to visit us once every year, +But finds us _prepared for him_--meets with good cheer, +And a most cordial welcome from all of us here. +When with us he's quite civil and very polite, +In manners most courtly, and dignified quite; +But I'm told were he goes unexpected he's rough, +Chills all by his presence, and savage enough. +_Hark, hear how it storms!_ blowing high and yet higher; +But then we've books, music, and a brilliant wood fire, +Where logs piled on logs give one warmth e'en to see; +Oh! these evenings in winter are charming to me. +In good keeping these logs are with wind and the hail, +Everything in the country is on a _grand scale_. +You have nought in the city I think can compare, +To the bright glowing hearth from a good _country_ fire. +To be sure, now and then, one is cheered by the sight +Of wood fire in the city, but when at its height +Compared to _our fires_, Lilliputianal quite. +But here I will stop, for I think it quite time +To have done with my boasting, and finish my rhyme. + +M.A.H.T. BIGELOW. +Weston, April 6, 1852. + +P.S. And now, my dear friend, it is certainly fair, + Your city advantages you should compare + With ours in the country, let me know what they are. + + + + +REPLY: + +WHICH I AM GRATEFUL FOR PERMISSION TO INSERT. + + +Dear Madam, +Many thanks for your missive so charming in verse, +So kind and descriptive, so friendly and terse; +It came opportune on a cold stormy day, +And scattered ennui and "blue devils" away; +For though in the city, where "all's on the go," +We often aver we feel only "so so," +And sigh for a change--then _here_ comes a letter! +What could I desire more welcome and better? +But how to reply? I'm lost in dismay, +I cannot in rhyme my feelings portray. +The _nine_ they discard me, I'm not of _their_ train, +They entreatingly beg, "I'll ne'er woo them again;" +But I'll brave their displeasure, and e'en write to _you_ +A few lines of doggrel, then rhyming adieu. +My errors do "wink at," for hosts you'll descry, +And spare all rebuff, and the keen critic's eye. +I appreciate all of your calm country life, +And feel you are happy as mother and wife; +Surrounded by taste, and _the friend_ so refined, +Who with sterling good sense, loves the delicate mind; +Who with _you_ can admire the "bird on the wing," +With _you_ welcome back the return of the spring; +Enjoying the promise of fruits and sweet flowers, +With music to cheer and beguile evening hours; +Then _long_, very long, may such hours be given-- +They whisper content, and the foretaste of heaven. +I was born in the city, the city's my home, +Yet oft in the country with pleasure I roam; +For _there_, I confess, the heart finds repose +In its pleasures and sorrows, which _here_ it ne'er knows. + +_There_ no fashion, no nonsense, intrude on your walk, +But rational moments of rational talk, +Asserting that soiries, with jewels and dress, +Make a very small part of life's happiness. +Ah! this I believe, most _sincerely_ I do, +And sympathize freely, most truly with you. +Now Kossuth is coming, pray what's to be done? +No pageant to welcome, to children no fun? +Some "turn a cold shoulder," and look with disdain, +Yet many there'll be who will follow his train. +He's "sure missed a figure," and "bit his own nose," +Ah, many the thorn he'll find 'mid life's rose. + +Then we've concerts, fine readings, museum and halls, +With disputes, and debates, in legislative halls, +Ethiopian Minstrels, Shakesperian plays; +And yet, my dear friend, I'm told in these days, +Religion's blessed joys are most faithfully felt, +With devotion's pure prayers the proud heart to melt; +That many have turned to the straight narrow road, +Which leadeth to peace and communion with God. +To _you_ this assurance a welcome will find, +A subject of vital concern to the mind. + +When hither you come, do enter our door, +I'll give you my hand, perhaps something more. +Let me urge, if inclined, to this you'll reply, +I'll again do my best, yes, surely I'll try; +The fair one who brings it ought sure to inspire +Some poetical lay from Genius' sweet lyre. +But Genius repels me, she "turns a deaf ear," +And frowns on me scornful, the year after year; +Perhaps if I sue, in the "sere yellow leaf," +She'll open her heart, and yield me relief. +But wayward my pen, I must now bid adieu, +My friendship, dear madam, I offer to you, +And beg with your friends, you'll please place my name, +The privilege grant me of doing the same. + +S. NICHOLSON. +Boston, April 16, 1862. + + + + +REJOINDER TO THE FOREGOING REPLY. + + +Many, many thanks my friend, +For those sweet verses thou didst send, + So good they were and witty; +And now I will confess to thee, +Mixed up with bad, much good I see + Within the crowded city. + +Boston, "with all thy faults I love +Thee still," though much I disapprove-- + See much in thee to blame; +Yet to be candid, I'll allow +Thy equal no one can me show + From Mexico to Maine. + +It is my boast, perhaps my pride, +To be to English blood allied, + Warm in my veins it's flowing; +And when I see the homage given +To foreign men and foreign _women_,[1] + _That blood with shame is glowing_. + +I hope when Kossuth fever's cool +And we have put our wits to school, + And sober senses found; +When the Hungarian's out of sight +And shattered brains collected quite, + We may be safe and sound. + +But what simpletons, should we choose, +With nought to gain and much to loose, + 'Gainst Austria to war; +What greater folly, when we know +By doing this, we'll get a blow + From the ambitious Czar. + +But you may not with me agree, +And I am getting warm I see, + So here I bid adieu +To Kossuth and to Hungary, +To Russia and to Germany, + And the great Emperor too. + +And now my friend a word I'd say +Before I throw my pen away, + On subject most important; +In doing this I need not fear +I shall offend the nicest ear, + Or strike a note discordant. + +Oh! had I true poetic fire, +With boldness would I strike the lyre + So loud that all might hear; +But ah! my harp is tuned so low, +Its feeble strains I full well know + Can reach no distant ear. + +Yet I rejoice that harps on high, +And voices of sweet harmony, + Are raised to bless the name +Of Him who sits upon the throne, +Rejoicing over souls new born, + Who soon will join with them, +Eternally His name to adore +Who died, yet lives forevermore. + +Weston, May 8, 1852. + + [1] By this I do not mean to include all foreigners, for some of + them I consider among the very best of our population, but + dancers, &c., &c. + + + + +TO MY FRIEND MR. J. ELLIS. + + +To thee, the guardian of my youthful days, +Fain would I pay some tribute of respect; +And though it falls far short of thy desert, +The _will_ to do thee justice thou'lt accept. + +As I recall the days of former years, +Thy many acts of kindness bring to mind, +Tears fill my eyes, in thee I've ever found +A friend most faithful, uniformly kind. + +Thou art the earliest friend of mine that's left-- +The rest have long departed, every one; +They've long years since the debt of nature paid, +But thou remainest still, and thou alone. + +The snow of four score winters thou has seen, +And life's long pilgrimage may soon be o'er; +Respected, loved, and happy hast thou been, +With ample means to relieve the suffering poor, +Thou ever hadst the will, as well as power. + +Temperate in habit, and of temper even, +Calm and unruffled as the peaceful lake, +To thee the satisfaction has been given +Much to enjoy, and others happy make. + +And when thy days on earth shall all be past, +And thou before the Saviour's bar appear, +Mayst thou be found clothed in his righteousness +And from his lips the joyful sentence hear-- + +"Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou +Hast over few things faithful been, and now +I'll make thee ruler over many things, +And place a crown of glory on thy brow." + +Such will be thy reward, my friend, and mine, +If trusting in Christ's merits, _not our own_, +We at the last great day in him be found; +_He_ is the ark of safety--_He alone_. + +Weston, April 24, 1852. + + + + +A PASTORAL. + + +Oh! tell me ye shepherds, tell me I pray, +Have you seen the fair Jessie pass by this way? +You ne'er could forget her, if once you had seen, +She's fair as the morning, she moves like a Queen. + +My sheep are neglected, my crook's thrown aside, +In pursuit of dear Jessie, sweet Jessie, my bride; +I hear nothing of her, no tidings can glean, +To _see_ is to _know_ her, she moves like a Queen. + +Say, have you seen her? oh, pity my grief! +Speak _quick_, and impart me the needful relief; +You cannot forget her, if once you have seen, +She's lovely as Venus, she moves like a Queen. + +Have you not seen her?--then listen I pray, +Oh! listen to what a poor shepherd can say +In the praise of one ne'er so lovely was seen; +She's youthful as Hebe, she moves like a Queen. + +She's fair as the Spring in the mild month of May, +She's brilliant as June decked in flowerets so gay; +You ne'er could forget her if once you had seen, +She's charming as Flora, she moves like a Queen. + +Oh! tell me not Damon, that yours can compare +To Jessie, sweet Jessie, with beauty so rare; +With a face of such sweetness, so modest a mien, +She's like morn in its freshness, she moves like a Queen. + +You tell me your Sylvia is beautiful quite; +She may be, when Jessie is kept out of sight; +She is not to be mentioned with Jessie, I ween, +Her voice is sweet music, she moves like a Queen. + +Then name not your Sylvia with Jessie I pray, +'Tis comparing dark night with the fair light of day; +Sylvia's movements are clumsy, and awkwardly seen, +But Jessie is graceful, she moves like a Queen. + +Menalaus' fair wife, for beauty far famed, +By the side of my Jessie is not to be named; +Paris ne'er had woo'd Helen, if Jessie he'd seen, +She's chaste as Diana, she moves like a Queen. + +Oh! aid me, do aid me, ye shepherds, I pray! +The time is fast flying, no longer I'll stay; +You cannot mistake her, there's none like her seen, +She's lovely as Venus, she moves like a Queen. + +Do help me to find her, I'm wild with affright, +The day passes swiftly, it soon will be night; +There's none to compare with her, none like her seen, +_More_ lovely than Venus, she moves like a Queen. + + + + +THE JESSAMINE. + +EDDIE TO JESSIE. + + +There are many flowers famous for fragrance and hue, +Sweet Roses and Lilies, Geraniums too; +And though decked in gay colors they look very fine, +They are not to my fancy like _sweet Jessie mine_. + + + + +FOR THE S.S. CONCERT, + +IN THE WAYLAND ORTHODOX CHURCH. + + +Feed my lambs! the Saviour said, +Near two thousand years ago; +If we truly love the Lord, +By obedience, love we'll show. + +What was said to Peter then, +In that distant age and clime, +Sure is binding on us now, +Here and to the end of time. + +If our Shepherd then we love, +His commandments we'll obey; +Let us true disciples prove, +Feed his lambs as best we may. + +Twice twelve years have passed this day,[2] +Since our Sabbath School commenced; +Countless lessons have been learned, +Much instruction been dispensed. + +Let us up and doing be, +Sow the seed all times and hours; +Cast our bread on water even, +Tax with vigor all our powers. + +May the teachers now engaged, +Courage take, and persevere; +They'll not fail of their reward, +Though they may not meet it here. + +God is faithful, who hath said, +(Let the thought allay your fears,) +"They with joy shall surely reap, +Who have sown in prayers and tears." + +Then sow the seed with prayers and tears; +Never doubt, but faithful be; +Though thou reapest not for years, +A rich harvest thou wilt see. + +Happy faces now we miss, +Who were wont these seats to fill; +Loved and lovely passed away, +Yet they're fresh in memory still. + +Soon their earthly race was run, +In the morning called away; +Others soon may follow them, +May all hear the Saviour say, + +"Well done, faithful servant; thou +Hast o'er few things faithful been, +I will make the ruler now +Over many--enter in." + + [2] June 13, 1852. + + + + +FEED MY LAMBS. + + +Just before the bright cloud the Saviour received, +When about to return to his father in Heaven; +His mission accomplished, his work on earth done, +'Twas then that this parting injunction was given: + +"Feed my lambs!" this was said to one of the twelve, +Whom he called to be with him while sojourning here; +"Feed my lambs!" Oh, what love was evinced by those words, +What tender compassion, what fatherly care. + +Three times at this meeting the question was asked, +"Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?" +And though grieved, yet how truly could Peter reply, +"Lord thou knowest all things, thou know'st I love thee." + +Thrice this same Peter his Lord had denied, +And had he not reason reproaches to fear? +Oh, no! for his Saviour had all this forgiven, +He saw his repentance, he knew it sincere. + +That disciple soon followed his Lord whom he loved, +And many long ages have since passed away; +But the parting command still remains in full force, +And will ever remain so till time's latest day. + +Many wolves in sheep's clothing are still to be found, +Whom Satan fails not to instruct and employ; +They enter the fold, and with most specious wiles, +Seek the young of the flock to ensnare and destroy. + +And shall we dare call ourselves followers of Christ, +And yet his known precepts presume to evade? +Ah! stop and reflect, what's the test that's required? +"If ye love me, keep my commandments," he said. + +June 26, 1852. + + + + +"GOD IS LOVE." + + +Come blest Spirit from above, +Come and fill my heart with love; +Love to God, and love to man, +Love to do the good I can; +Love to high, and love to low, +Love to friend, and love to foe. +Love to rich, and love to poor, +Love to beggar at my door. +Love to young, and love to old, +Love to hardened heart and cold. +Love, true love, my heart within +For the sinner, _not the sin_; +Love to holy Sabbath day, +Love to meditate and pray, +Love for love, for _hatred_ even; +_Love like this, is born of Heaven_. + + + + +TO MY FRIEND MRS. LLOYD + + +My very dear friend +Should never depend +Upon anything clever or witty, +From a poor country wight +When attempting to write, +To one in your far famous city. +Indeed I'm inclined, +To fear that you'll find +These lines heavy, and quite out of joint; +And now I declare, +It's no more than fair, +Should this prove a dull letter, +That you write me a better; +And something that's quite to the point. +This having premised +As at present advised, +I'll indulge in the thoughts that incline, +Not with curious eye +The dim future to spy, +But glance backward to "Auld Lang Syne." +If I recollect right, +It was a cold day quite, +And not far from night +When _the Boarding School famous_ I entered. +Now what could I do? +Scarce above my own shoe +Did I dare take a view, +Or to speak, or e'en move hardly ventured. +At this school I remained +Till supposed to have gained +Education quite good and sufficient; +But one in those days, +Thought deserving of praise, +Would in these, be deemed very deficient. +And here we will try +Before the mind's eye, +To bring forward a few of that household; +There were the witty, +Also the pretty, +But some very plain, +Not a few very vain, +And among them the phlegmatic and cold. +Though it seems out of place +I will here find a space +For some few in the lower apartment; +Sure this must be right, +They contributed quite +To our comfort, in their humble department. +Here's Lydia and Polly, +And Peter the jolly, +With teeth white as ivory +And cheeks black as ebony, +So from Africa doubtless was he; +But we'll ascend from below, +And see entering just now +With a Parisian bow +And all in a glow +Gay Monsieur Pichon, +And French teacher Faucon; +Also V----, the Musician, +And B----, Mathematician. +Monsieur Laboltierre, +So brisk and debonnair +Had also been there; +And there's Eggleston fair, +With whom none might compare. +Miss W----, romantic, +Miss F----, transatlantic, +And of others a score you might see. +But here I propose +The long list to close, +With addition of only one name; +Amidst the gay throng +Was one lovely and young, +Who brought sunshine wherever she came. +She had light brown hair, +Was graceful and fair, +Of children many +Youngest of any, +And Margaret this maiden they call; +A sweet smile she had +That round her lips played, +And with eyes bright and blue +She'd a heart warm and true +And disposition affectionate withal. +One advantage she'll allow +That I have over her now, +The same in our youthful days, when +On our studies intent +Over school desk we bent, +Her Senior I always have been. +How like to a dream +Do those days to me seem, +When with others preparing to enter +On the world's great stage, +And with light heart engage +Our part in the drama to venture. +Of that school there's not one +Except thee alone, +Whom now living as friend I can claim; +Some have departed, +Some are false hearted, +And their friendship exists but in name. +But that friendship's long lived +That forty years has survived, +And may we not hope 'twill endure, +When in flames of fire +This earth will expire, +And old time shall itself be no more. + +July 12, 1852. + + + + +ESCAPE OF THE ISRAELITES, + +AND DESTRUCTION OF PHARAOH. + + +Ah! short-sighted monarch, dost thou think to pursue +The Israel of God, and recapture them too? +Hast thou so soon forgotten the plagues on thee sent, +Or so hardened thy heart that thou can'st not relent? +Then make ready thy chariots, a long way they'll reach; +Thou hast six hundred chosen, a captain to each. +Now after them _hasten_, no time's to be lost, +That God worketh for them, thou'st felt to thy cost. +_Speed thee then, speed thee_, thou'lt soon them o'ertake, +Thou hast so overtasked them they're powerless and weak. +Ah! weak and defenceless they truly appear, +But the Lord is their rock, they're his special care. +See that pillar that's leading them all on their way, +It's a bright cloud by night and a dark cloud by day; +And now by the Red Sea behold they encamp, +But _hark_! what's that sound, it's the war horse's tramp. +Look up, see thy enemy close by thee now, +The sea lies before thee, ah! what canst thou do? +Moses bids them go forward at God's command, +When the waters divide, and they walk on dry land; +And the cloud that to Egypt is darkness all night, +To the children of Israel, is a bright shining light. +And now have the Hebrews all safely passed through +The Red Sea, which Pharaoh assaying to do +Is destroyed with his host, every one of them drowned, +Not a man saved alive, not a _single man found_ +To return to lone Egypt, the sad news to bear +To the widows and orphans made desolate there. +But list! hear the rescued their glad voices raise, +And to timbrel and dance add the sweet song of praise, +For Pharaoh hath perished beneath the dark sea, +And the long enslaved Hebrews are happy and free. + +July 14, 1852. + + + + +HYMN, + +SUNG AT THE ORDINATION OF THE REV. HENRY ALLEN. + + +We meet to-day as ne'er before, +To greet a pastor of our choice, +Without a single jarring note, +And without one dissenting voice. + +Oh thou who art enthroned on high, +Before whom holy angels bow, +Be pleased to hear us when we sing, +Accept the praises offered now. + +Let no one present, dare to give, +The service of the lip alone; +Or think if they the heart withhold, +'Twill find acceptance at thy throne. + +But with united heart and voice, +A grateful tribute we would raise; +Oh bless us all assembled now, +Help us to pray, and help to praise. + +Thou great Immanuel, who didst lead +Thy Israel all the desert through; +Like them we're weak and helpless quite, +Oh! condescend to lead _us_ too. + +And when our Shepherd with his flock +Before thy throne shall re-appear, +May every one acceptance find, +And ceaseless praises offer there. + +Sept. 1852. + + + + +MARGARET'S REMEMBRANCE OF LIGHTFOOT. + + +My beautiful steed, +'Tis painful indeed +To think we are parted forever; +That on no sunny day, +With light spirits and gay, +Over hills far away, +We shall joyously travel together. + +Thy soft glossy mane +I shall ne'er see again, +Nor thy proudly arched neck 'gain behold; +Nor admire _that_ in thee, +Which so seldom we see, +A kind, gentle spirit, yet bold. +Thou wert pleasant indeed +My darling grey steed, +"In my mind's eye" thou'rt beautiful still; +For when thou wert old +Thy heart grew not cold, +Its warm current time never could chill. + +Not a stone marks the spot +Where they laid thee, Lightfoot, +And no fence to enclose thee around; +But what if there's not, +_Deep engraved on my heart_ +Thy loved image may ever be found. + + + + +"THE CLOUDS RETURN AFTER THE RAIN." + + +Dark and yet darker my day's clouded o'er; +Are its bright joys all fled, and its sunshine no more? +I look to the skies for the bright bow in vain, +For constantly "clouds return after the rain." + +Must it always be thus, peace banished forever, +And joy to this sad heart returned again never? +I long for the rest that I cannot obtain, +For the clouds, so much dreaded, return after rain. + +Is there not in this wide world one spot that is blessed +With exemption from suffering, where one may find rest; +Where sickness and sorrow no entranpe can gain, +And the clouds do not return after the rain? + +Ah! deceive not thyself by a vain hope like this, +Nor expect in this world to enjoy lasting peace: +But bow with submission to God's holy will, +For the hand that afflicts is thy kind Father's still. + +If my days are dark here, there are brighter above, +In those pure realms of light, peace, joy, and of love; +Where the air is all balm, and the skies ever fair, +And the river of life, clear as crystal flows there. + +There also, for healing the nations, are found +The leaves of the tree on which rich fruits abound; +There is no need of candle, for God is their light, +There never is darkness, for "_there_ is no night." + +Oh! may I there find, when this brief life is past, +By my Saviour prepared, a sweet home at last; +Where sin never enters, death, sorrow, nor care, +And clouds are not feared, for it never rains there. + +August 19, 1852. + + + + +THE NOCTURNAL VISIT. + + +Lo the curtains of night around Palestine fall, +And Jerusalem's streets into darkness are thrown; +The late-busy hum of men's voices is hushed, +And the city is clad in dark livery alone. + +But see through the dimness that half opened door, +And slowly emerging a figure behold; +A quick, furtive glance he has thrown all around, +For what is he thirsting, for blood, or for gold? + +Stealthily, fearfully, onward he moves, +So light are his footsteps you scarce hear their tread; +Yet no midnight robber, no murderer is he, +Then why dread recognition--of man why afraid? + +Let us follow his footsteps and learn where he goes; +And now at the door of a house see him stand; +But why wait so long ere admittance he seeks, +In attempting to knock, why trembles that hand? + +He has come to the fountain of light and of life, +Before whom ne'er suppliant sued humbly in vain; +He has come for the knowledge that alone maketh rich, +And without which we're poor, though the whole world we gain. + +He has come to learn wisdom of that lowly one, +Who spake as "never man spake" it was said; +And who, though so poor and despised among men, +Is the whole world's Sustainer, creation's great Head. + +But list to the words of the Saviour of men, +"Verily, verily I say unto thee, +That no man, except he be born again, +Is permitted the kingdom of heaven to see." + +How humbling to pride were these words of our Lord, +What fears in his guest they serve to awaken; +Though a ruler of Jews, he was yet in his sins; +The first step towards heaven he never had taken. + +Ah! Nicodemus, how many like thee, +Would perceive all their boasted religion was vain, +Could they meet but his glance who "searcheth the heart, +And trieth the reins of the children of men." + +Sept. 9, 1852. + + + + +SOVEREIGNTY OF GOD AND FREE AGENCY OF MAN. + + +Thou art a perfect Sovereign, oh my God! +And I rejoice to think that thou art so; +That all events are under thy control, +And that thou knowest all I think and do. +But some may ask, "then why am I to blame +Because I sin, if God hath made me thus?" +Stop, stop, my friend, God tempteth not to sin, +Thou dost it of thy own free will and choice. +Though God is Sovereign, we free agents are, +Accountable to him for all we do, +Feel, think, or say; and at the last great day, +A most exact account must render too. +With this conclusion be thou satisfied-- +_For all who will accept him, Christ hath died_. + +Sept. 19, 1862. + + * * * * * + +God is a Sovereign, man free agent too; +How these to reconcile I do not know: +But _this_ I know, if _lost_, the blame is _mine_, +If saved, the _praise_, oh God! be _only thine_. + + + + +AUTUMN AND SUNSET. + + +Hail, sober Autumn! thee I love, +Thy healthful breeze and clear blue sky; +And _more_ than flowers of Spring admire +Thy falling leaves of richer dye. + +'Twas even thus when life was young, +I welcomed Autumn with delight; +Although I knew that with it came +The shorter day and lengthened night. + +Let others pass October by, +Or dreary call its hours, or chill; +Let poets always sing of Spring, +My praise shall be of Autumn still. + +And I have loved the setting sun, +E'en than his rising beams more dear; +'Tis fitting time for serious thought, +It is an hour for solemn prayer. + +Before the evening closes in, +Or night's dark curtains round us fall, +See how o'er tree, and spire, and hill, +That setting sun illumines all. + +So when my earthly race is run, +When called to bid this world adieu, +Like yonder cloudless orb I see, +May _my_ sun set in glory too. + +Oct 8, 1852. + + + + +"MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND." + + +My times are in thy hand, my God! +And I rejoice that they are so; +My times are in thy hand, my God, +Whether it be for weal or woe. + +My times are in thy hand, I know; +And if I'm washed in Jesus' blood, +Though dark my pathway here below, +It leads directly up to God. + +Since all thy children chastening need, +And all _so called_ must feel the rod, +Why for exemption should I plead, +For am I not thy child, my God? + +Ah why go mourning all the day, +Or why should I from trials shrink? +Though much of sorrow's in my cup, +The cup that I am called to drink. + +'Tis needful medicine I know, +By the most skilful hand prepared, +Strictly proportioned to my wants, +There's _not a drop_ that can be spared. + +Then why desponding, oh my soul, +Because of trials here below? +They're all appointed by my God, +My times are in thy hand, I know. + +Jan. 18, 1863. + + + + +NOVEMBER. + + +Remember the poor, in the dark chilly day, +When November's loud winds are fierce blowing; +Remember the poor, at thy plentiful board, +When the fire on thy bright hearth is glowing. + +Remember the poor in yon damp dismal shed, +Without food, fire, or clothing to warm them; +And not like the Priest or the Levite pass by, +But Samaritan like stop and cheer them. + +Remember the slave, the poor down trodden slave, +And do all in thy power to relieve him; +And when from oppression he strives to be free, +Do thou open thy gate to receive him. + +For what saith the Lord is thy duty to such, +"To his master thou shalt not return him,"[3] +But give him a home near thy own if he likes, +And be sure not to vex or oppress him. + +When parents or children or brethren you meet, +In our happy New England and free, +Then remember the slave, the heart broken slave, +For thy brother, _thy brother_ is he. + +Remember him also when prayer for thyself, +In affliction's dark hour doth ascend; +And when crying to God the father of all, +Let _his_ wants with _thine own_ kindly blend. + +And at the last day, when the rich and the poor +Shall alike by the _Judge_ be regarded; +When master and slave shall appear before God, +And a sentence impartial awarded,-- + +The cup of cold water He will not forget, +But with other good acts bring to mind; +"When naked ye clothed me, when hungry ye fed," +Will be uttered in accents most kind. + +But when, blessed Saviour, ah when was the time, +That we fed, clothed, or visited thee? +"Such acts," He replies, "to my poor brethren done, +I consider as done unto me." + +Nov. 1862. + + [3] See Deuteronomy, 23:15, 16. + + + + +WINTER. + + +His thundering car +Is heard from afar, +And his trumpet notes sound +All the country around; +Stop your ears as you will, +That loud blast and shrill +Is heard by you still. +Borne along by the gale, +In his frost coat of mail, +Midst snow, sleet, and hail, +He comes without fail, +And drives all before him, +Though men beg and implore him +Just to let them take breath, +Or he'll drive them to death. +But he comes in great state, +And for none will he wait, +Though he sees their distress +Yet he spares them no less, +For the cold stiff limb +Is nothing to him; +And o'er countless blue noses, +His hard heart he closes. +His own children fear him +And dare not come near him; +E'en his favorite child[4] +Has been known to run wild +At his too near approach, +Her fear of him such, +And to shriek and to howl +And return scowl for scowl. +Indeed few dare him face, +And _all_ shun his embrace; +For though pleasant his smile, +Yet one thinks all the while +Of that terrible frown, +Which the hardiest clown, +Though a stout hearted man, +Will avoid if he can. +And though many maintain +That he gives needless pain, +I confess I admire +This venerable sire. +True his language is harsh, +And his conduct oft rash, +And we know well enough, +That his manners are rough; +Yet still in the main, +We've no right to complain, +For if we prepare for him, +And show that we care for him, +We may in him find +A true friend and kind. +With us he will stay +Three months to a day, +So let us prepare +The snug elbow chair, +Which placed by the fire +For the hoary-head sire, +May comfort impart +And cheer his old heart. +Though he seems so unkind, +Yet always you'll find +That his cold heart will warm, +And he'll do you no harm +If your _own_ can but _feel_ +For your poor neighbor's weal; +And with pity o'erflowing, +Your free alms bestowing, +Never closing your door +On the suffering poor; +But clothe, feed, and warm them, +And see that none harm them. +_E'en to others just do_ +As you'd wish them by you. +Let's adopt but this plan, +To do good when we can, +And the dark stormy day +Will full quick pass away, +And we never complain +Of cold weather again, +Or of tedious long hours, +That are spent within doors; +For when winter winds blow, +And we're hedged up by snow, +We shall find full employment, +And lack no enjoyment. +Thus prepared, let him come, +He will find us at home; +Bring wind, hail, or snow, +Blow high, or blow low, +We're prepared for him now. +Then come winter, come, +You'll find us at home. + +Nov. 5, 1852. + + [4] Spring. + + + + +There is within this heart of mine, +An aching void earth ne'er can fill; +I've tried its joys, its friendships proved, +But felt that aching void there _still_. + +Thy love alone, my Saviour God, +True satisfaction can impart; +Can fill this aching void I feel, +And give contentment to my heart. + +Oh! cheer me by thy presence, Lord, +Increase my faith an hundred fold; +Be _thy name_ on my forehead found, +_Mine_ in thy book of life enrolled. + +Dec. 19, 1862. + + + + + * * * * * + + +Forever closed that dark blue eye, +Full and expressive, pensive too; +Thy light brown hair, and face so fair, +And graceful form are hid from view. + + + + +LIFE'S CHANGES. + + +A fair young girl was to the altar led +By him she loved, the chosen of her heart; +And words of solemn import there were said, +And mutual vows were pledged till death should part. + +But life was young, and death a great way off, +At least it seemed so then, on that bright morn; +And they no doubt, expected years of bliss, +And in their path the rose without a thorn. + +Cherished from infancy with tenderest care, +A precious only daughter was the bride; +And when that young protector's arm she took, +She for the first time left her parents' side. + +With all a woman's tender, trustful heart, +She gave herself away to him she loved; +Why should she not, was he not all her own, +A choice by friends and parents too approved? + +How rapidly with him the days now fly, +With _him_ the partner of her future life; +Happy and joyous as a child she'd been, +Happy as daughter, _happier still as wife_. + +But ere eight months in quick succession passed, +One to each human heart a dreaded foe, +Entered her house, and by a single stroke, +Blasted her hopes, and laid her idol low. + +Three months of bitter anguish was endured, +But hope again revived, and she was blest, +When pressing to her heart a darling child, +Whose little head she pillowed on her breast. + +Not long is she permitted to enjoy, +This sweetest bud of promise to her given; +Short as an angel's visit was its stay, +When God, who gave it, took it up to heaven. + +Ah, what a contrast one short year presents! +Replete with happiness--replete with woe; +In that brief space, a maiden called, and wife, +Widow and mother written--childless too. + +Surely my friend, I need not say to thee, +Look not to earth for what it can't bestow; +'Tis at the best a frail and brittle reed, +Which trusting for support, will pierce thee through. + +Then let us look above this fleeting earth, +To heaven and heavenly joys direct our eyes; +No lasting happiness this world affords-- +"He builds too low who builds below the skies." + +Weston, Dec. 1, 1852. + + + + +LINES. + + "They will not frame their doings to turn unto their God. + Hosea, 5:4." + + +I would frame all my doings to please thee, my God! +'Tis from thee all my mercies proceed; +I would frame all my doings to serve thee, my God! +For thy service is freedom indeed. + +I would frame all my doings to please thee, my God! +But how feeble my best efforts are; +Ah! how needful for me is thy chastening rod, +And a proof of thy fatherly care. + +I would frame all my doings to serve thee, my God! +But my goodness extends not to thee; +And when on well doing I'm fully intent, +Alas! evil is present with me. + +My Creator, Preserver, Redeemer and King, +I would tax all my powers to obey; +But to Him let me look for the help that I need, +Who is the life, the light, and the way. + +Weston, Jan. 21, 1853. + + + + +"TAKE NO THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW." + + +Take no thought for the morrow, the Saviour hath said, +And he spake as ne'er man spake before; +"He carried our sorrows," "was acquainted with grief," +And knew well what the heart could endure. + +Let the morrow take care for the things of itself, +And not by its weight crush thee down; +Sufficient to-day is the evil thereof, +Let the ills of to-morrow alone. + +Neither boast of to-morrow, for what is thy life, +But a vapor that floateth away; +Like a _tale_ quickly told, or a _dream_ of the night, +That departs at the breaking of day. + +Be not like the man who once said in his heart, +"I have goods that are laid by for years;" +But scarce had he planned how they best might be stored, +When he dies and leaves all to his heirs. + +Neither _dread_ then, nor _boast_ of to-morrow, my soul, +But make most of the time that's now given; +Be the ground well prepared, with good seed sown thereon, +And 'twill yield a rich harvest in heaven. + +Jan. 24, 1853. + + + + +REMINISCENCES OF THE DEPARTED. + + +His mission soon accomplished, +His race on earth soon run, +He passed to realms of glory, +Above the rising sun. + +So beautiful that infant, +When in death's arms he lay; +It seemed like peaceful slumber, +That morn might chase away. + +But morning light was powerless, +Those eyelids to unclose; +And sunshine saw and left him, +In undisturbed repose. + +The light of those blue orbs +That drank the sunbeams in, +Now yields to night, and darkness +Holds undisputed reign. + +That little form so graceful, +The light brown chestnut hair; +Those half formed words when uttered, +That face so sweet and fair; + +All, all his ways so winning, +Were impotent to save +His life, when called to yield it +By _Him that_ life who gave. + +So soon his voyage ended, +The passage home so short, +Before he knew of evil, +He entered safe the port. + +Since thee, my child, I saw, +Long years have passed away; +Thy mother's hair then brown, +Now's intermixed with gray. + +Another link's been broken, +By death's relentless hand; +A daughter has been taken, +The eldest of the band. + +_Thy_ little lamp of life, +Was put out in a day; +But _hers_ was years expiring, +By slow yet sure decay. + +But _one_ short year of life, +Was all allotted thee; +But she, thy eldest sister, +Was _many_ years spared me. + +And though long since we parted, +On earth to meet no more; +I'd think of thee as children +"Not _lost_, but gone before." + +Feb. 20, 1853. + + + + +"LET ME DIE THE DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS." + + +By the river Euphrates the prophet abode, +To whom Balak his messengers sent, +Entreating his presence and curses on those +Who on Moab's destruction were bent. + +By hundreds of thousands they're marching along, +And by Moses, God's servant, they're led; +The rock for their thirst, cooling water supplies, +And with bread from the skies are they fed. + +They are felling the nations like trees on their way, +And their power there is none can resist; +"Come, curse me this people, oh! Balaam, I pray, +For he whom _thou_ cursest is curst." + +With rich bribes in their hands have these messengers come, +Both from Moab and Midian are they; +Desiring the Prophet with them would return, +And this without any delay. + +But the men are requested to stop over night, +That the will of the Lord he may learn; +And then if by Him he's permitted to go, +He'll accompany them on their return. + +Now when earth her dark mantle of night had put on, +And men's eyes in deep slumber were sealed; +In that solemn hour was the voice of God heard, +And his will to the Prophet revealed. + +"Thou shalt not go with them!" distinctly was said, +"Nor to curse the Lord's people presume;" +So the Princes of Moab returned as they came, +And left Balaam reluctant at home. + +Again unto Balaam were messages sent, +More in number, in _rank higher still_, +With the promise if Balak's request he would grant, +He may ask and receive what he will. + +But Balaam declared that if Balak would give +Him his house full of silver and gold, +The word of the Lord he could _not_ go beyond, +To do _more_ or do less than he's told. + +Still the bait was quite tempting, and Balaam was weak, +And wicked he certainly proved; +E'en the Ass that he rode, _that_ man's conduct condemned, +Who the gains of unrighteousness loved. + +In the country of Moab at length he arrives, +And King Balak hath met face to face, +Who requests that with him a high hill he'd ascend, +And the Israelites curse from that place. + +Three times seven altars were raised to the Lord, +And three times was the sacrifice made; +But the curse was withheld, for whom _God_ pronounced blest, +Even _Balaam_ to _curse_ was afraid. + +Poor Balaam, thy case is a hard one indeed; +Like a house that's divided thou art; +Both thy Maker and Mammon thou gladly would'st serve, +But the former requires thy whole heart. + +"Let me die the death of the righteous," say'st thou, +"And my last end like his let it be;" +But if like the righteous _unwilling to live_, +_Never hope like the righteous to die_. + +March 24, 1853. + + + + + * * * * * + +Though life is young, and spirits gay, +And hope thy fond heart cheers; +Though friends are kind, and health is firm, +And death _far off_ appears, + +Yet think not happiness like this, +Is destined long to last; +For ere to-morrow morn, perhaps, +Thy sky may be o'ercast. + +Ah! let not pleasure blind thy eyes, +Or flattery lure thy heart; +But in the morning of thy life, +Secure the better part. + +March 29, 1853. + + + + +THE GREAT PHYSICIAN. + + "And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so + must the Son of man be lifted up. + + "That whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have + eternal life." + + St. John, 3:14, 15. + + +What means that cry of anguish, +That strikes the distant ear; +The loud and piercing wailing, +In desert wilds we hear? + +From Israel's camp it cometh, +For Israel hath rebelled; +And these are cries of anguish, +By wrath of God impelled. + +It is no common sorrow, +Extorts that bitter groan; +'Tis from the broken hearted, +And caused by sin alone. + +Lo! in the far off desert, +Upon that tented ground, +Are many hundred thousands +Of weary travellers found. + +In desert of Arabia, +Near forty years they roam; +And soon they are to enter +"Canaan their happy home." + +But come with me and visit +A people so distressed; +They are the seed that Jacob +When dying pronounced blessed. + +We'll draw aside the curtain +Of tent that's nearest by; +Ah! what a mournful picture +For stranger's curious eye. + +See on that couch reclining, +A young and lovely girl, +With brow and neck half shaded. +By many a clustering curl. + +She was an only daughter, +Nurtured with tenderest care; +The idol of her parents, +And fairest of the fair. + +In bloom of youth and beauty, +But yesterday she shone; +And her fond parents thought her +A mine of wealth unknown. + +She seems like one that sleepeth, +But there's no sign of breath; +And coil'd 'neath her arm a serpent, +Whose bite is _certain death_. + +Yet not alone the mourners +In this sad tent are found; +Shriek after shriek is echoed +For many miles around. + +The mother, too, is bitten, +With infant in her arms; +And sire, in strength of manhood; +And bride, with all her charms. + +But see on pole suspended, +A serpent now appears; +And hark! what blissful tidings +Salute the mourner's ears. + +For every one that's bitten, +A remedy is found; +However bad the case is, +However deep the wound. + +If but _one spark_ remaineth +Of life in any soul, +Just look upon this serpent, +That look will make thee whole. + +But there's a wound that's deeper +Than fiery serpent gave; +And bite that's _doubly_ fatal, +It kills beyond the grave. + +And there's a great physician, +That e'en _this wound_ may cure; +And those to him applying, +May life and health secure. + +The broken heart he healeth, +He cures the sin-sick soul; +And all who will behold him, +May _look_ and be made whole. + +"I am the way!" he crieth; +"And all who will may come, +I'll pardon their transgression, +And safe conduct them home. + +"To cleanse from all pollution, +My blood doth freely flow; +And sins, though red as scarlet, +Shall be as white as snow. + +"Thy ransom to pay for thee, +E'en my own life it cost; +And he such love that slighteth, +Forever shall be lost." + +April 14, 1853. + + + + +TO MY NIECE, MRS. M.A. CALDWELL. + + +When days are dark and spirits low, +And hope desponding stands, +What comfort these few words bestow, +"My times are in thy hands." +That thought should every fear allay, +And every cloud dispel; +For we are in the hands of _One_ +Who "doeth all things well." + +He clothes the lily of the field, +Paints the gay tulip's leaf, +Hears the young ravens when they cry, +And hastes to their relief. +That little sparrow in thy path, +He noticed when it fell; +Numbereth the hairs upon thy head, +And "doeth all things well." + +Then say not when with cares oppressed, +He hath forsaken me; +For had thy father loved thee less, +Would he so chasten thee? +A friend he takes, a Husband too, +A Child, with him to dwell; +Selects the day, the place, the hour-- +"He doeth all things well." + +His power is _heard_ when thunders roll, +_Felt_ when the cold wind blows, +_Seen_ in the vivid lightning's flash, +And in the blushing rose. +He cares for monarch on his throne, +For hermit in his cell, +For sailor on the mighty deep-- +"He doeth all things well." + +He raiseth one to high estate, +He brings another low; +_This year_ an empire doth create +The _next_ may overthrow. +What he may plan for you or me, +While here on earth we dwell, +We know not--but of this I'm sure, +"He doeth all things well." + +Weston, April 18, 1853. + + + + +THE MORNING DRIVE. + +FOR MY DAUGHTER MARGARET. + + +Very like to a dream, +Doth the time to me seem, +When with thee a young girl by my side, +One of summer's fine days, +In a one pony chaise, +We commenced in the morning our ride. + +By the pine grove and nook, +Over bridge and through brook, +Quite at random we drove without fear; +While the birds of the grove, +In sweet harmony strove, +By their concert of music to cheer. +With none to molest us, +No home cares to press us, +Farther onward, and onward we roam; +But at length the skies lower, +And unhoped for the shower +Finds us many miles distant from home. + +Even so is life's day, +Like a fair morn in May, +With hope's bright bow of promise it cheers; +But long before night, +The sun that so bright +In the morning had shone, disappears. + +Do not then I entreat, +My beloved Margaret, +Be content with this world for thy portion; +Let ambition soar _higher_, +E'en _above_ earth aspire, +And to God give thy heart's true devotion. + +April 29, 1853. + + + + +REPLY TO A TOAST, + +SENT BY MR. W. TO THE LADIES OF WAYLAND, AT THEIR FAIR HELD ON MAY-DAY. + + +Many, _many_ kind thanks from the Waylanders fair, +Who are sorry, quite sorry you could not be there, +To receive their warm greeting, partake of their cheer, +And repaid by their smiles for your wishes sincere. +That health and content may your footsteps attend, +Believe me, dear sir, is the wish of your friend. + +May 2, 1853. + + + + +TO MR. C.R. + +FOR MANY YEARS DEPRIVED OF SIGHT. + + +They say the sun is shining +In all his splendor now, +And clouds in graceful drapery, +Are sailing to an fro. + +That birds of brilliant plumage, +Are soaring on the wing; +Exulting in the daylight, +Rejoicing as they sing. + +They tell me too that roses, +E'en in _my_ pathway lie; +And decked in rich apparel, +Attract the passers by. + +They say the sun when setting, +Is glorious to behold; +And sheds on all at parting, +A radiant crown of gold. + +And then the night's pale empress, +With all her glittering train, +The vacant throne ascending, +Resumes her peaceful reign. + +That she in queenly beauty, +Subdued yet silvery light, +Makes scarcely less enchanting +Than day, the sober night. + +But sights like these so cheering, +Alas, I cannot see! +The daylight and the darkness +Are both alike to me. + +Yet there's a world above us, +So beautiful and fair, +That nothing here can equal, +And nought with it compare. + +There, in a blaze of glory, +Amidst a countless throng, +The Saviour smiles complacent, +While listening to their song. + +Ten thousand times ten thousand, +Their cheerful voices raise, +While golden harps in harmony +Are tuned to sound the praise + +Of Him the blest deliverer, +Who conquered when he fell; +The man of many sorrows, +The _Great Immanuel_. + +But stop--I dare not venture +Too far on holy ground; +Its _heights_ are too exalted, +Its _depths_ are too profound. + +Yet may I be permitted, +When this brief life is past, +The hope in yon bright heaven, +To find my home at last. + +When cleansed from all pollution, +From sin and sorrow free, +I, with unclouded vision, +My Saviour God may see. + +Brooklyn, May, 1853. + + + + +TO MY MISSIONARY FRIENDS, + +MR. AND MRS. I.G. BLISS. + + +Why, dear friends, oh! tell us wherefore +You're so anxious to be gone; +Is the country late adopted +Dearer to you than your own? + +Have you found a father, mother, +In that distant clime to love, +Or a sister, friend, or brother, +Better than the long-tried prove? + +"Oh, no! believe us, no such motives +Prompt us to tempt old ocean's wave; +We go among the poor benighted, +Perhaps to find an early grave. + +"Ah! you know not half our anguish-- +Only those who _feel_ can tell-- +When we think of the sad parting, +And that solemn word--farewell. + +"But while lingering, souls are dying, +Souls that Jesus came to save; +And of such a priceless value, +That for them his life he gave. + +"Trials great no doubt await us +In that distant home of ours; +Work requiring so much labor, +As to exceed our utmost powers. + +"But He who said 'Go preach the gospel,' +All powerful is, to aid, defend; +'Lo I am with you always,' said he, +'And will be even to the end.' + +"With such command, and such a promise, +Sure our path of duty's plain; +Do not then, dear friends, persuade us +Longer with _thee_ to remain." + +Go then, go! we'll not detain you, +We dare not ask your longer stay; +And may winds and waves of ocean, +Waft you safely on your way. + +They who all forsake for Jesus, +Father, mother, country, home, +Here an hundred fold are promised, +And eternal life to come. + +Go then, go! but when far distant, +Bear us sometimes on your mind; +When for others interceding, +Forget not those you leave behind. + +And when your earthly warfare's ended, +And you have laid your armor down, +May souls of poor benighted Asia +Add _many_ stars to your bright crown. + + + + +TO MY HUSBAND. + + +Just two-and-forty years have passed[5] +Since we, a youthful pair, +Together at the altar stood, +And mutual vows pledged there. + +Our lives have been a checkered scene, +Since that midsummer's eve; +Much good received our hearts to cheer, +And much those hearts to grieve. + +Children confided to our care, +Hath God in kindness given, +Of whom five still on earth remain, +And two, we trust, in heaven. + +How many friends of early days, +Have fallen by our side; +Shook by some blast, like autumn leaves +They withered, drooped, and died. + +But still permitted, hand in hand +Our journey we pursue; +And when we're weary, cheered by glimpse +Of "_better land_" in view. + +We may not hope in this low world, +Much longer to remain, +But oh! there's rapture in the thought, +That we may meet again. + + [5] July 14, 1853. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Kings and Queens of England with +Other Poems, by Mary Ann H. 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Bigelow</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + <!-- + body {font-family:Georgia,serif;margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;font-variant:small-caps;} + pre {font-family:Courier,monospaced;font-size: 0.8em;} + sup {font-size:0.7em;} + hr {width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + hr.short {width:25%;} + .title {padding-top:2em;} + + ul {list-style-type:none;padding-left:1em;text-indent:-1em;margin:auto;width:80%;} + .returnTOC {text-align:right;font-size:.7em;} + span.sidenote {position: absolute; right: 1%; left: 87%; font-size: .7em;text-align:left;text-indent:0em;} + sup{font-size:.7em;} + span.sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + .quote {text-indent:0em;margin-left:15%;margin-right:15%;font-size:90%;} + .cen {text-align:center;} + .rgt {text-align:right;} + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .dateline {text-align:right;margin-right:10%; font-size:80%;} + .figure {text-align:center;padding:1em 1em 1em 1em;} + a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Kings and Queens of England with Other +Poems, by Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Kings and Queens of England with Other Poems + +Author: Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow + +Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14955] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KINGS AND QUEENS *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Tozier, Barbara Tozier, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + +<!-- +[Inscription: I will add a few words respecting my kings and Queens. + +They were hastily written from the impulse of the moment, for my own +entertainment, and that of my youngest grand-daughter, without the remotest +idea of printing them. This is my apology for the careless, familiar style +in which they were composed. At the request of my children I concluded to +print them, when it would have been highly proper to have furnished my +royal personages with a dress more befitting the occasion. But the state of +my eyes rendered it very inconvenient, if not hazardous to attempt it. And +as they are only intended to visit a few of my friends, I trust to their +good nature to excuse the homely garb in which they are presented.] +--> +<div class="figure"><a href="images/Inscription.png"><img src= +"images/Inscription.png" alt="An inscription by the author" id= +"imgInscription" name="imgInscription" width="333" height= +"480" /></a></div> +<h1>THE KINGS AND QUEENS OF ENGLAND</h1> +<h2>WITH OTHER POEMS</h2> +<h4>BY</h4> +<h2>MARY ANN H.T. BIGELOW</h2> +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR</h4> +<h3>MDCCCLIII.</h3> +<hr class="full" /> +<p class="cen">TO THE<br /> +COMPANION OF HER YOUTH, MIDDLE AGE, AND DECLINING YEARS,<br /> +THE FOLLOWING POEMS ARE INSCRIBED<br /> +BY HIS<br /> +AFFECTIONATE WIFE,</p> +<p class="dateline">MARY ANN H.T. BIGELOW.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>Preface.</h2> +<p>I must claim the indulgence of my friends for the many defects +they will find in my poems, which they will please wink at, +remembering that I was sixty years old when I commenced rhyming; +and this by way of experiment, while on a visit to my daughter, in +Brooklyn.</p> +<p>My first essay, was The Monarchs of England. I took it up for my +amusement, wishing to ascertain how much of that history I could +recollect without help from any other source than memory.</p> +<p>The rhyme is in many places far from smooth, and there are many +redundances that might with advantage be lopped off; and were it to +come under the critic’s eye to be reviewed, I should feel it +quite necessary to improve it, (the poetry, I mean.) But as it +would require quite too much exertion for my eyes in their present +state, and as the history, dates, &c., I believe, are correct, +I send it to the press “with all its imperfections on its +head.”</p> +<hr /> +<h2><a id="Contents" name="Contents">Contents.</a></h2> +<ul> +<li><a href="#Poem_1">Kings and Queens of England</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_2">To my Daughter Elizabeth</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_3">Acrostic</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_4">The Evening of Life</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_5">An Acrostic</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_6">An Acrostic</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_7">Written upon receiving a New Year’s +Gift</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_8">Lines to the Memory of Patrick +Kelley</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_9">My S.S. Class</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_10">For my Grandsons, Eddie and Allie</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_11">For my Granddaughters, M. and L., an +Acrostic</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_12">To my Friend, Mrs.R.</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_13">To my Niece, Angeline</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_14">An Acrostic</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_15">An Acrostic</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_16">She slumbers still</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_17">To a Friend in the City</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_18">Reply</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_19">Rejoinder to the foregoing Reply</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_20">To my Friend, Mr.J. Ellis</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_21">A Pastoral</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_22">The Jessamine</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_23">For the Sabbath School Concert</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_24">Feed my Lambs</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_25">God is Love</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_26">To my Friend, Mrs. Lloyd</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_27">Escape of the Israelites</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_28">Ordination Hymn</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_29">Margaret’s Remembrance of +Lightfoot</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_30">The Clouds return after the Rain</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_31">The Nocturnal Visit</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_32">Sovereignty and Free Agency</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_33">Autumn and Sunset</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_34">“My times are in thy +hand”</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_35">November</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_36">Winter</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_37">Life’s Changes</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_38">“They will not frame their +doings”</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_39">“Take no thought for the +morrow”</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_40">Reminiscences of the Departed</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_41">“Let me die the death of the +righteous”</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_42">The Great Physician</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_43">To my Niece, Mrs. M.A. Caldwell</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_44">The Morning Drive, for my Daughter +Margaret</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_45">Reply to a Toast</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_46">To Mr. C.R.</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_47">To my Missionary Friends</a></li> +<li><a href="#Poem_48">To my Husband</a></li> +</ul> +<hr /> +<h2>Poems.</h2> +<hr /> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_1" name="Poem_1"></a>The Kings and +Queens of England,</h2> +<h3>From the Battle of Hastings or the Norman Conquest, to the +Present Reign, Inclusive.</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>First, William the Norman lays claim to the crown</p> +<p>And retains it till death; then follows his son</p> +<p>The red headed William, whose life is cut short</p> +<p>By a shot from his friend, when hunting for sport.</p> +<p>Then Henry his brother takes quiet possession,</p> +<p>As Henry the first, of the great English nation.</p> +<p>Next Stephen, a kinsman gets the crown by his might,</p> +<p>But no one pretends to say he had a right.</p> +<p>Then comes Hal the second, who cuts a great figure</p> +<p>With Becket, fair Rosamond and Queen Eliner.</p> +<p>The Lion-hearted <em>Richard</em>, first of that name,</p> +<p>Succeeded his father in power and in fame;</p> +<p>He joined the Crusade to a far distant land</p> +<p>But his life was cut short by a murderous hand.</p> +<p>Next comes the <em>cruel</em> and <em>cowardly</em> John,</p> +<p>From whose hand, reluctant, Magna Charta was won.</p> +<p>Then his son Henry third, deny it who can?</p> +<p>Though unfit for a King, was yet a good man,</p> +<p>And his reign though a long one of fifty-six years</p> +<p>Was full of perplexities, sorrows, and fears.</p> +<p>His son Edward first next governs the nation,</p> +<p>Much respected and feared, in holding that station.</p> +<p>The Principality of Wales was annexed in his reign,</p> +<p>And his son Edward second, first Prince of that name.</p> +<p>But what shall I say of King Edward the third,</p> +<p>The most remarkable reign, that yet had occurred;</p> +<p>Fire arms in the war, were <em>first</em> used in his reign,</p> +<p>And the battle of <em>Cressy</em> of great note and fame,</p> +<p>To their introduction has the right to lay claim.</p> +<p>The knights of the Garter, first made in his reign</p> +<p>In honor it seems of a fair English dame,</p> +<p>The Duchess of Salisbury to whom it is said,</p> +<p>From Edward <em>peculiar</em> attentions were paid.</p> +<p>Of Richard the second we have little to say,</p> +<p>And take up the fourth Henry, the next on our way,</p> +<p>Who reigned fourteen years, when death cut him down</p> +<p>And left his good Kingdom to Henry his son;</p> +<p>But ere nine years had past, the fifth Henry was borne</p> +<p>To the region of darkness from whence none return.</p> +<p>The next reign is full of commotion and strife,</p> +<p>And Henry the sixth is seen flying for life;</p> +<p>For though King of England, we cannot but see</p> +<p>He’s but the shadow of a king—that <em>should</em> +be;</p> +<p>And during the thirty-nine years that he reigned</p> +<p>His crown and his sceptre were feebly retained.</p> +<p>It was in this reign on her mission intent,</p> +<p>That Joan of Arc to the battle field went:</p> +<p>The French troops were elated, the English dismayed</p> +<p>At the wonderful victories achieved by her aid;</p> +<p>At length fortune turns, and ’tis needless to tell</p> +<p>Of the fate of this maiden—it is all known too well.</p> +<p>Of Edward the fourth it seems proper to say</p> +<p>That he fancied Dame Shore, when wed to Bess Gray.</p> +<p>But the fate of Jane Shore, should be warning to all</p> +<p>Who from love, or ambition, are tempted to fall.</p> +<p>When Edward the fourth departed this earth,</p> +<p>He left two little sons, both Royal by birth;</p> +<p>But ere three years had pass’d, both met with their +doom,</p> +<p>By a most cruel uncle, cut down in their bloom</p> +<p>Of youth, love, and beauty, and laid in the tomb.</p> +<p>King Edward the fifth was the eldest one’s name,</p> +<p>Though never permitted by his uncle to reign.</p> +<p>Next comes cruel Richard, the third of that name,</p> +<p>Whose vices surpassing put others to shame.</p> +<p>When unhorsed in battle, he’s so anxious to live,</p> +<p>That he cries “for a horse, my kingdom I’ll +give.”</p> +<p>But in the same battle he had his last fall—</p> +<p>Lamented by none, but detested by all.</p> +<p>In the next reign the wars of the roses, all ended,</p> +<p>And the red rose and white, forever were blended;</p> +<p>For when Henry the seventh took Bessy his bride,</p> +<p>The knot of the roses forever was tied;</p> +<p>And when the sceptre descended from father to son,</p> +<p>The red and the white leaves all mingled in one.</p> +<p>King Henry the eighth had quite a long reign</p> +<p>Mixed up with his Anne’s, his Katy’s and Jane.</p> +<p>But from this King we turn with disgust and with shame,</p> +<p>And greet with delight, the sixth Edward by name.</p> +<p>But only six years did this King fill the throne,</p> +<p>When called to resign it and lay his crown down.</p> +<p>A worthier we think, has never set</p> +<p>On the throne of Great Britain—at least not as yet.</p> +<p>With pleasure we love to contemplate him now,</p> +<p>With a bright crown of Glory, encircling his brow,</p> +<p>In the region of <em>light, love, peace</em>, and of joy,</p> +<p>Where pleasures eternal can have no alloy.</p> +<p>Sin, sickness, and death, never find entrance there,</p> +<p>For the air is all balm, and the skies ever fair;</p> +<p>The clouds of his young life have all passed away</p> +<p>And he enjoys the full light of an endless day—</p> +<p>For all who find footing on that peaceful shore,</p> +<p>Shall hunger, and thirst, and sorrow no more.</p> +<p>But once more we return to this “dim speck of +earth,”</p> +<p>And revisit the clime that gave Edward his birth.</p> +<p>Bloody Mary his sister, next mounted the throne,</p> +<p>But when five years had pass’d, was obliged to lay +down,</p> +<p>Notwithstanding reluctance, her Sceptre and Crown.</p> +<p>For death to whom she had sent many a one,</p> +<p>Now called for his victim, and made her his own.</p> +<p>Not by <em>fire</em> and by <em>faggot</em> was <em>she</em> +hurried away,</p> +<p>But by painful sickness and loathsome decay.</p> +<p>Now commences the reign of the “Good Queen +Bess,”</p> +<p>But <em>why</em> she’s called <em>good</em> I never could +guess:</p> +<p>Yet justice constrains me to allow in the main,</p> +<p>That her’s was a glorious and most prosperous reign.</p> +<p>She had the good sense to know whom to admit</p> +<p>To her private councils, as men the most fit;</p> +<p>And by their advice, good sense and discretion,</p> +<p>She managed with <em>fitness</em> to govern the nation.</p> +<p>As a Queen she seems great, though <em>weak</em> as a woman,</p> +<p>And when praised as a <em>Goddess</em>, was no more than +human;</p> +<p>At the age of threescore, she loved to be compared</p> +<p>As a beauty to Venus, though crook’d and red haired.</p> +<p>Of lovers she had full many a one,</p> +<p>Who sought, through her hand, a pass to the throne,</p> +<p>But chose to remain single; for full well she knew,</p> +<p>That in giving her hand, she gave away her power too.</p> +<p>In this reign we find ineffacible blots,</p> +<p>In the treatment of Essex, and Mary of Scots;</p> +<p>The death of the former, the Queen sorely repents,</p> +<p>And for her lost Essex she deeply laments.</p> +<p>The remorse of a Countess, in keeping his ring,</p> +<p>I leave to some rhymer, more able to sing.</p> +<p>Next James sixth of Scotland, <em>first</em> of England +became—</p> +<p>In peace and security permitted to reign.</p> +<p>In the person of James, two crowns were united,</p> +<p>And England and Scotland remain undivided.</p> +<p>With this king the reign of the Stuarts began,</p> +<p>And continued to the end of the reign of Queen Ann.</p> +<p>In the reign of Charles first, commences a strife</p> +<p>Between King and Parliament, that ends but with life;</p> +<p>This poor King was beheaded, his son had to flee,</p> +<p>And in his place Oliver Cromwell we see.</p> +<p>Now in Cromwell the ruler of England we find;</p> +<p>Right or wrong, I never could make up my mind;</p> +<p>Still all must allow (for deny it who can?)</p> +<p>That this same Oliver was a very great man.</p> +<p>In eleven years the days of the Commonwealth ended.</p> +<p>And gay Charles the second, the throne then ascended.</p> +<p>This second king Charles king of hearts might be +call’d,</p> +<p>For many a fair one he seems t’ have enthrall’d.</p> +<p>James second, brother of Charles second succeeded,</p> +<p>But after a reign of four years, he seceded;</p> +<p>When quitting his throne, and his country he flies</p> +<p>Over the channel to France, where he dies.</p> +<p>Next the Prince of Orange, (from Holland he came,)</p> +<p>For the crown of old England, asserted his claim</p> +<p>Through right of his wife, Princess Mary by name.</p> +<p>And William the third with Mary his wife</p> +<p>Are crowned King and Queen of England for life.</p> +<p>This princess was lovely in person and mind,</p> +<p>As a wife most devoted, a <em>friend ever</em> kind.</p> +<p>Queen Ann’s is the next reign that in order appears</p> +<p>And it covers the space of thirteen full years.</p> +<p>Her death brought the reign of the Stuarts to a close,</p> +<p>But firm on their ruins, the House of Hanover rose.</p> +<p>With this house the reign of the Georges begins—</p> +<p>And four in succession we count up as Kings.</p> +<p>George the third, grandson of the second, so called,</p> +<p>Was for virtues and goodness of heart much extolled.</p> +<p>His reign the longest of any appears,</p> +<p>Bearing title of king for sixty-two years.</p> +<p>But when aged four score, this good king we find</p> +<p>Bereft of his senses and hearing, and blind.</p> +<p>In this reign America declared herself free,</p> +<p>And independent of rulers over the sea.</p> +<p>At length death relieved him, and he was cut down,</p> +<p>To make way for his eldest and libertine son.</p> +<p>But though of talent acknowledged the son possessed more,</p> +<p>The <em>sire’s heart was good</em>, the <em>son’s +corrupt at the core</em>;</p> +<p>Though admired for his beauty, and manners, and wit,</p> +<p>As a husband and father he never was fit.</p> +<p>But before we pass on to the next reign in course,</p> +<p>We have a most sorrowful tale to rehearse,</p> +<p>Of the young princess Charlotte, next heir to the crown,</p> +<p>In the spring time of life, scarce with warning cut down.</p> +<p>If ever the nation were mourners sincere,</p> +<p>’Twas when they united around the sad bier</p> +<p>Of this youthful princess so deservedly dear;</p> +<p>And stout-hearted men unaccustomed to mourn,</p> +<p>Let bitter tears fall, as they gazed on her urn.</p> +<p>But who can describe the anguish of one,</p> +<p>The heart-stricken husband apart and alone.</p> +<p>As the sun of his happiness rose to its height,</p> +<p>Death enters his dwelling, and lo! it is night;</p> +<p>The light of his house forever has fled,</p> +<p>For his loved one, his dearest, lies low with the dead.</p> +<p>In the <em>same</em> day all his fair prospects were +crossed,</p> +<p>When a <em>wife</em>, and a <em>son</em>, and a <em>kingdom</em> +he lost.</p> +<p>Next William the fourth, is proclaimed Britain’s king,</p> +<p>For between him and his brother two deaths intervene.</p> +<p>No <em>legitimate</em> child did he leave in possession</p> +<p>Of the Crown of old England, in right of succession;</p> +<p>So the diadem passed to the youthful brow</p> +<p>Of his niece Queen Victoria, who honors it now;</p> +<p>And for her we wish, as our rhyming we close,</p> +<p>A <em>long, peaceful reign</em>—an old age of repose.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Written while on a visit at Brooklyn, N.Y., +1851.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_2" name="Poem_2"></a>To my Daughter +Elizabeth.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Two flowers upon one parent stem</p> +<p>Together bloomed for many days.</p> +<p>At length a storm arose, and <em>one</em></p> +<p>Was blighted, and cut down at noon.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The other hath transplanted been,</p> +<p>And flowers <em>fair</em> as <em>herself</em> hath borne;</p> +<p>She too has felt the withering storm,</p> +<p>Her strength’s decayed, wasted her form.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>May he who hears the mourner’s prayer,</p> +<p>Renew her strength for years to come;</p> +<p>Long may He our Lilly spare,</p> +<p>Long delay to call her home.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But when the summons shall arrive</p> +<p>To bear this lovely flower away,</p> +<p>Again may she transplanted be</p> +<p>To blossom in eternity.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There may these sisters meet again,</p> +<p>Both freed from sorrow, sin, and pain;</p> +<p>There with united voices raise,</p> +<p>In sweet accord their hymns of praise;</p> +<p>Eternally his name t’ adore,</p> +<p>Who died, yet <em>lives forevermore</em>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, Jan. 3, 1852.</p> +<h2><a id="Poem_3" name="Poem_3"></a>Acrostic.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>For thee, my son, a mother’s earnest prayer</p> +<p>Rises to Heaven each day from heart sincere,</p> +<p>Anxiously seeking what concerns thee most;</p> +<p>Not merely earthly good for thee she prays,</p> +<p>Knowledge, or wealth, or fame, or length of days,</p> +<p>What shall these profit, if the soul be lost.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In this life we find alternate day and night,</p> +<p>Not always darkness, <em>sure not always</em> light;</p> +<p>’Tis well it should be so, we’re travellers +here,</p> +<p>Home, <em>that</em> “sweet home,” the +Christian’s place of rest,</p> +<p>Rises by faith to view when most distressed:</p> +<p>Oh! this life past—mayst thou find entrance there.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Perplexed, distressed, sick, or by friends betrayed,</p> +<p>Beset with snares, deprived of human aid,</p> +<p>In all thy sorrows whatsoe’er they be,</p> +<p>Go to the Saviour, tell him all thy need,</p> +<p>Entreat his pity, he’s a friend indeed;</p> +<p>Lay hold by faith on <em>Him</em>, and he will succor thee.</p> +<p>Oh, do not live for this dull world alone,</p> +<p>When with the <em>Angels</em> thou mayst find a home.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Jan. 1853.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_4" name="Poem_4"></a>The Evening of +Life.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As the shadows of evening around me are falling,</p> +<p>With its dark sombre curtain outspread,</p> +<p>And night’s just at hand, chilly night so appalling,</p> +<p>And day’s brilliant sunshine hath fled,</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It is e’en so with me, for the eve of my day</p> +<p>Has arrived, yet I scarcely know how;</p> +<p>Bright morn hath departed, and noon passed away,</p> +<p>And ’tis evening, <em>pale</em> eve with me now.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! where are the friends who in life’s early morn,</p> +<p>With me did their journey commence;</p> +<p>Some are estranged, while some few still remain,</p> +<p>And others departed long since.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And when I too, like them, shall be summoned away,</p> +<p>And the shadows of death on me fall,</p> +<p>Be thou the Great Shepherd of Israel but near,</p> +<p>My Saviour, my God, and my all.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And though the “dark valley” we all must pass +through,</p> +<p>Yet surely no evil can harm</p> +<p>The <em>sheep</em>, when the Shepherd is walking there too,</p> +<p>And supports them by his mighty arm.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! my Redeemer, wilt thou be with me then,</p> +<p>And food for my journey provide,</p> +<p>Divide the dark waters of Jordan again,</p> +<p>And safe in thy bosom me hide.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Though wild beasts of the desert may roar long and loud,</p> +<p>And the billows of ocean rise high,</p> +<p>With thy rod and thy staff for my strength and support,</p> +<p>I shall pass them in safety all by.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And having crossed Jordan, on Canaan’s bright shore</p> +<p>With what joy shall I take a survey,</p> +<p>And reflect that the dangers of life are all o’er,</p> +<p>And with unclouded vision enjoy evermore</p> +<p>The bright sun of an endless day.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, Feb. 4, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_5" name="Poem_5"></a>An +Acrostic.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Merry, merry little child,</p> +<p>Active, playful, sometimes wild;</p> +<p>Rosy cheeks, and ringlets rare,</p> +<p>Glossy black, with eyes compare.</p> +<p><em>All, all</em> these belong to thee,</p> +<p>Right pleasant little Margerie.</p> +<p>Every good, dear child, be given</p> +<p>Thee on earth, and rest in heaven.</p> +<p>But who thy future lot can see?</p> +<p>All, <em>every</em> page is hid from me;</p> +<p>Xtended through eternity,</p> +<p>Thy life so late begun will be.</p> +<p>Earnest seek to know the truth,</p> +<p>Remember God in early youth;</p> +<p>When in his sacred courts thou art,</p> +<p>Engage in worship thy <em>whole heart</em>;</p> +<p>Listen to what the preacher says,</p> +<p>Listen to prayers, and list to praise,</p> +<p>In nothing see thou dost offend,</p> +<p>Nor fail the Sabbath <em>well</em> to spend.</p> +<p>Give to thy parents honor due,</p> +<p>Thy sisters love, and brothers too;</p> +<p>Oh! good and happy mayst thou be,</p> +<p>Now and ever, Margerie.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_6" name="Poem_6"></a>An +Acrostic.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Cannot happiness perfect be found on this earth?</p> +<p>How absurd to expect it—sin comes with our birth.</p> +<p>As soon from spring bitter, sweet water procure,</p> +<p>Rich clusters of grapes from the thorn;</p> +<p>Look for figs upon thistles, when seeking for food,</p> +<p>Or bread from the cold flinty stone.</p> +<p>The wealth of the Indies, <em>true</em> peace can’t +bestow,</p> +<p>The Crown Royal oft presses an aching brow,</p> +<p>E’en in laughter there’s madness—mirth coupled +with woe.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As true peace in this world, then, can never be found,</p> +<p>Until deep in the heart Christian graces abound,</p> +<p>Give diligent heed to the keeping thy heart;</p> +<p>Unwearied in effort, repel every dart</p> +<p>So dextrously pointed by Satan’s black art.</p> +<p>True peace is from Heaven—a child of the skies,</p> +<p>And feeble exertions secure not the prize.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Never falter in duty, but trust in that power</p> +<p>Engaged to support you in each trying hour;</p> +<p>When sinking like Peter amidst the dark wave,</p> +<p>Ever look unto Jesus, almighty to save.</p> +<p>Look <em>to</em> him, live <em>like</em> him, be strong in his +might,</p> +<p>Lay thy <em>burden</em> on him, and thy <em>cross</em> +he’ll make light.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_7" name="Poem_7"></a>Written upon +Receiving a New Year's Gift.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I have a little Grandchild dear,</p> +<p>Who sends to me on each new year</p> +<p class="i4">A valuable present:</p> +<p>Not costly gift from store-house bought,</p> +<p>But one that her own hands have wrought,</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore to me more pleasant.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Accept, dear child, the wish sincere,</p> +<p>For you much happiness this year,</p> +<p class="i4">And length of days be given;</p> +<p>Here may you act well your part,</p> +<p>Serving the Lord with all your heart,</p> +<p class="i4">And find your rest in heaven.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Jan. 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_8" name="Poem_8"></a>Lines</h2> +<h3>To The Memory Of Patrick Kelley, Who By His Many Good Qualities +During Some Years' Residence In My Family, Greatly Endeared Himself +To Me And Mine.</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>From Erin’s fair Isle to this country he came,</p> +<p>And found brothers and sisters to welcome him here;</p> +<p>Though then but a youth, yet robust seemed his frame,</p> +<p>And life promised fair for many a long year.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A place was soon found where around the same board,</p> +<p>He with two of his sisters did constantly meet;</p> +<p>And when his day’s work had all been performed,</p> +<p>At the <em>same</em> fireside he found a third seat.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>His faithfulness such, so true-hearted was he,</p> +<p>That love in return could not be denied;</p> +<p><em>As one of the family</em>—he soon ceased to be</p> +<p>The stranger, who lately for work had applied.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Youth passed into manhood, and with it there came</p> +<p>New duties to fill, new plans to pursue;</p> +<p>But a fatal disease now seizes his frame,</p> +<p>And with health is his strength fast leaving him too.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>From his home in the country to the city he went,</p> +<p>Where kind brothers procured him good medical aid;</p> +<p>But all was in vain—Death commissioned was sent,</p> +<p>And soon his remains in the cold grave were laid.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The broad waves of Atlantic lie rolling between</p> +<p>His brothers and sisters and parents on earth;</p> +<p>And never by parents may those children be seen,</p> +<p>Or the latter revisit the land of their birth.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But sooner or later they all must be borne</p> +<p>To that region of darkness from whence none return;</p> +<p>Oh! then may they meet on Canaan’s bright shore,</p> +<p>An <em>unbroken household</em> to part nevermore.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, Jan. 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_9" name="Poem_9"></a>My S.S. +Class.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I now will endeavor, while fresh in my mind,</p> +<p>My Sabbath School Class to portray;</p> +<p>The theme's furnished for me, I've only to find</p> +<p>Colors to blend, their forms to display.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And first on the canvass we'll Adeline place,</p> +<p>With her full and expressive dark eye;</p> +<p>Decision of purpose is stamped on that face,</p> +<p>And good scholarship too we descry.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Next in order comes Alice, with bright sunny smile,</p> +<p>That does one's heart good to behold;</p> +<p>May the sorrows of life ne'er that young spirit blight,</p> +<p>Nor that heart be less cheerful when old.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But who's this that we see, with that mild pensive air,</p> +<p>And a look so expressively kind?</p> +<p>It is Ann, gentle Ann, before whom we pass by,</p> +<p>We will add--'t would be useless in any to try</p> +<p>Disposition more lovely to find.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The next is a bright noble face we espy,</p> +<p>'Tis a boy of ten years we shall find;</p> +<p>There's a spice of the rogue in that merry young eye,</p> +<p>With good sense and good nature combined.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It's young master Alpheus--we never have found</p> +<p>One more punctual at school hour than he;</p> +<p>He's now but a lad, yet who knows when a <em>man</em>,</p> +<p>But a <em>Judge in our land</em> he may be.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Next comes little Moggy, our dear little Moggy,</p> +<p>But before she is brought out to view,</p> +<p>We'll new colors select, add fresh tints to the whole,</p> +<p>And spread all on our pallet anew.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And now she appears in her own proper size,</p> +<p>Her cheeks colored by nature's warm glow;</p> +<p>With her full lustrous and speaking black eyes,</p> +<p>And rich ringlets that grace her young brow.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Walter's the last on the painting we see,</p> +<p>Little Walter, the youngest of all;</p> +<p>Look! he's repeating his lesson just now,</p> +<p>Mark the expression on that infant brow,</p> +<p>He's a <em>wonder</em>, for scholar so small.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But there's one in this grouping we look for in vain,</p> +<p>Whose image we often recall;</p> +<p>How mournfully sweet is the sound of thy name,</p> +<p>Dear Elbridge, the loved one of all.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thou wert called in the freshness of morning away,</p> +<p>By him who all things doeth well;</p> +<p>The rest for brief periods are suffered to stay,</p> +<p>How long, we may none of us tell.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>May the Holy Book studied in this Sabbath School,</p> +<p>Be more precious than silver or gold;</p> +<p>Be its doctrines received, and its precepts obeyed,</p> +<p>And <em>rich treasures</em> it still will unfold.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And when one by one we shall all pass away,</p> +<p>To me, oh! my Father, be given</p> +<p>The joy that no heart upon earth can conceive,</p> +<p>To meet all in the kingdom of Heaven.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, Feb. 17, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_10" name="Poem_10"></a>For my +Grandsons, Eddy and Ally.</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I here engage</p> +<p>Upon this page</p> +<p class="i4">A picture to portray,</p> +<p>Of two of an age</p> +<p>Yet neither a sage,</p> +<p class="i4">But right honest hearts have they.</p> +<p>Each loves to play</p> +<p>And have his own way,</p> +<p>Yet I’m happy to say</p> +<p class="i4">They quarrel, if ever, but seldom.</p> +<p>Though competent quite</p> +<p>To maintain their own right,</p> +<p>And even to fight,</p> +<p class="i4">Yet peace to their bosom is welcome.</p> +<p>Both go to school,</p> +<p>And learn by rule</p> +<p class="i4">That in neither a dunce we may find;</p> +<p>Both read and spell</p> +<p>And like it well;</p> +<p class="i4">Thus with pleasure is profit combined.</p> +<p>One’s eyes are black,</p> +<p>The other’s blue;</p> +<p class="i4">They both have honest hearts and true,</p> +<p class="i4">And love each other dearly:</p> +<p>One’s father, is brother</p> +<p>To the other one’s mother,</p> +<p class="i4">So cousins german are they most clearly;</p> +<p>Each has a father,</p> +<p>And each has a mother,</p> +<p class="i4">And both do dearly love him;</p> +<p>But neither a sister,</p> +<p>And neither a brother,</p> +<p class="i4">To <em>play</em> with, or to <em>plague</em> him.</p> +<p>And here I propose,</p> +<p>Ere I come to a close,</p> +<p class="i4">A little advice to give;</p> +<p>To which if they heed,</p> +<p>They’ll be better indeed,</p> +<p class="i4">And happier as long as they live.</p> +<p>Be sure to mind</p> +<p>Your parents kind,</p> +<p class="i4">And do nothing to vex or tease them;</p> +<p>But through each day</p> +<p>Heed what they say,</p> +<p class="i4">And strive to obey and please them.</p> +<p>Take not in vain</p> +<p>God’s holy name,</p> +<p>Do not work,</p> +<p>Do not play</p> +<p>On God’s holy day,</p> +<p class="i4">Nor from church stay away;</p> +<p>Always bear it in mind</p> +<p>To be gentle and kind,</p> +<p>And friends you will find,</p> +<p>And hearts to you bind,</p> +<p class="i4">I am sure I may venture to say.</p> +<p>And when you’re men,</p> +<p>Who sees you then</p> +<p class="i4">I hope in you models will see,</p> +<p>Of <em>good</em> and <em>great</em>,</p> +<p>In <em>Church</em> and <em>State</em>,</p> +<p class="i4">Whose lips with your lives agree.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, Feb. 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_11" name="Poem_11"></a>For my +Grand-Daughters, M. and L.—an Acrostic.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Mary and Lily—how sweet are those names,</p> +<p>Allied as they are to my heart and my home;</p> +<p>Recalling with freshness the days that are past,</p> +<p>Yielding buds of sweet promise for days yet to come.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Links are these names to the chain that hath bound</p> +<p>In fetters my heart, to which still they lay claim;</p> +<p>Loved ones and lovely, still close by me found,</p> +<p>Years past, and time present, whose names are the same.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Enshrined in this bosom, is living one now,</p> +<p>Still youthful and truthful, and talented too,</p> +<p>Though years have elapsed since she passed from our view;</p> +<p>E’en in Summer midst roses in beauty and bloom,</p> +<p>She faded away, and was borne to the tomb.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, March 5, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_12" name="Poem_12"></a>For my Friend +Mrs. R.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When writing to you, friend, a subject I’d find</p> +<p>In which there’s both pleasure and profit combined,</p> +<p>And though what I’ve chosen may pain in review,</p> +<p>Yet still there’s strange mingling of pleasure there +too.</p> +<p>Then let us go back many years that are past,</p> +<p>And glance at those days <em>much too happy to last</em>.</p> +<p>I have seen thee, my friend, when around thy bright hearth</p> +<p>Not a seat was found vacant, but gladness and mirth</p> +<p>Kept high holiday there, and many a time</p> +<p>Were mingled in pastime my children with thine.</p> +<p>I’ve looked in again, the destroyer had come,</p> +<p>And changed the whole aspect of that happy home.</p> +<p>He entered that dwelling, and rudely he tore</p> +<p>From the arms of his mother, her most cherished flower.</p> +<p>Thy heart seemed then broken, oh! how couldst thou bear</p> +<p>To live in this world, and thy idol not here?</p> +<p>Oh! heart-stricken mother, thou didst not then know</p> +<p>All the bitter ingredients in thy cup of woe.</p> +<p>The hand of thy father that cup had prepared,</p> +<p>Each drop needful for thee, not one could be spared.</p> +<p>Ere thy first wound had healed, while bleeding and sore,</p> +<p>Death entered again, and a fair daughter bore</p> +<p>From home of her childhood, to return never more.</p> +<p>How painful the shock, for in striking that blow</p> +<p>A child, parent, sister, and wife was laid low.</p> +<p>Thy strength seemed unequal that shock to sustain,</p> +<p>But death was not satiate, he soon called again,</p> +<p>And tears and entreaties were powerless to save</p> +<p>Another dear daughter from death and the grave.</p> +<p>Like a fair lily when droops its young head,</p> +<p>With little of suffering her mild spirit fled.</p> +<p>She was thy namesake, to her young friends most dear;</p> +<p>So many thy trials, so heavy to bear,</p> +<p>It seemed that much longer thou couldst not survive;</p> +<p><em>How much can the human heart bear and yet live</em>.</p> +<p>Up to this time there had always been one</p> +<p>Who shared in thy trials and made them his own;</p> +<p>Many years his strong arm had support been to thee,</p> +<p>The friend of thy youth, thy kind husband was he.</p> +<p>He’s ever been with thee in weal and in woe,</p> +<p>But the time’s just at hand when he too must go.</p> +<p>The bolt fell not single, it pierced the slight form</p> +<p>Of a child, too fragile to weather the storm;</p> +<p>The summons that took her dear father away</p> +<p>Seemed her young heart to break, she could not here stay,</p> +<p>And now in deep slumber they side by side lay.</p> +<p>I have felt, my dear friend, as I’ve witnessed thy +grief,</p> +<p>How inadequate language to give thee relief;</p> +<p>And that <em>real relief</em> could never be found</p> +<p>Except from the hand that inflicted the wound.</p> +<p>In the furnace of fire thou wert not alone,</p> +<p>For walking beside thee had ever been one,</p> +<p>The kindest of friends, though thou could’st not him +see,</p> +<p>For the scales on thine eyes weighed them down heavily.</p> +<p>Those scales have now fallen; look up, thou canst see</p> +<p>That look of compassion, it’s fixed upon thee.</p> +<p>Raise thine eyes once again, see that head crowned with +thorns;</p> +<p>In those feet, hands, and side, see the deep bleeding +wounds.</p> +<p>You now know full well why such suffering was borne,</p> +<p>’Twas for thee, and for me, and for every one</p> +<p>Who trusts in his merits and on him alone.</p> +<p>Thy day is just passed, ’tis now evening with thee,</p> +<p>But the faith of the Christian is given to see</p> +<p>The star of bright promise, amid the dark gloom</p> +<p>Which shall light all thy footsteps and gild the lone tomb;</p> +<p>And at the last day mayst thou and thine stand</p> +<p>An <em>unbroken household</em> at Jesus’ right hand.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">March 27, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_13" name="Poem_13"></a>For my Niece +Angeline.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In the morning of life, when all things appear bright,</p> +<p>And far in the distance the shadows of night,</p> +<p>With kind parents still spared thee, and health to enjoy,</p> +<p>What period more fitting thy powers to employ</p> +<p>In the service of him, who his own life has given</p> +<p>To procure thee a crown and a mansion in Heaven.</p> +<p>As a dream that is gone at the breaking of day,</p> +<p>And a tale that’s soon told, so our years pass away.</p> +<p>“Then count that day lost, whose low setting sun</p> +<p>Can see from thy hand no worthy act done.”</p> +<p>Midst the roses of life many thorns thou wilt find,</p> +<p>“But the cloud that is darkest, with silver is +lined.”</p> +<p>As the children of Israel were led on their way</p> +<p>By the bright cloud at night, and the dark cloud by day,</p> +<p>So the Christian is led through the straight narrow road</p> +<p>That brings him direct to his home and his God;</p> +<p>And when the last stage of life’s journey is +o’er,</p> +<p>And Jordan’s dark waves can affright him no more,</p> +<p>When safely arrived in his own promised land,</p> +<p>He’s permitted with Saints and with Angels to stand,</p> +<p>Then weighed in the balance how light will appear</p> +<p>All the sorrows of life, with his blissful state there.</p> +<p>Oh! let us by faith take a view of him now,</p> +<p>See the crown of bright jewels encircling his brow;</p> +<p>His old tattered robe swept away by the flood,</p> +<p>Is replaced by a new one, the gift of his Lord;</p> +<p>The hand of his Saviour that garment hath wrought,</p> +<p>It is pure stainless white, free from wrinkle and spot.</p> +<p>The streets that he walks in are pavëd with gold,</p> +<p>And yet it’s transparent as glass we are told;</p> +<p>The pure river of water of life is in view,</p> +<p>And for healing the nations, the tree of life too.</p> +<p>There’s no need of a candle or sun there, for night</p> +<p>Is excluded forever—the Lord God is their light.</p> +<p>But here we will stop, for no tongue can declare,</p> +<p>No heart may conceive what the Saints enjoy there.</p> +<p>And these joys may be ours—oh! how blissful the +thought,</p> +<p>Ours without money, without price may be bought.</p> +<p>For us they’ve been purchased by the Son of God,</p> +<p>At an infinite price—<em>his own precious blood</em>.</p> +<p>They wait our acceptance, may be ours if we choose,</p> +<p>’Tis <em>life</em> to accept them,—’tis +<em>death</em> to refuse.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, May 15, 1862.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_14" name="Poem_14"></a>An +Acrostic.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah! what is this life? It’s a dream, is the reply;</p> +<p>Like a dream that’s soon ended, so life passes by.</p> +<p>Pursue the thought further, still there’s likeness in +each,</p> +<p>How constant our aim is at what we can’t reach.</p> +<p>E’en so in a dream, we’ve some object in view</p> +<p>Unceasingly aimed at, but the thing we pursue</p> +<p>Still eludes our fond grasp, and yet lures us on too.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>How analagous this to our waking day hours,</p> +<p>Unwearied our efforts, we tax all our powers;</p> +<p>Betimes in the morning the prize we pursue,</p> +<p>By the pale lamp of midnight we’re seeking it too;</p> +<p>At all times and seasons, this <em>same fancied good</em></p> +<p>Repels our advances, yet still is pursued,</p> +<p>Depriving us oft, of rest needful, and food.</p> +<p>But there’s a pearl of great price, whose worth is +untold,</p> +<p>It can never he purchased with silver or gold;</p> +<p>Great peace it confers upon all to whom given,</p> +<p>Ever cheering their pathway, and pointing to heaven.</p> +<p>Look not to this world for a prize of such worth,</p> +<p>Or hope <em>that</em> to obtain from this perishing earth</p> +<p>Whose essence is spiritual, and heavenly its birth.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, June 6, 1862.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_15" name="Poem_15"></a>Acrostic.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Even now I seem to see thee,</p> +<p>Lovely boy, with thy sweet smile,</p> +<p>Bright and beautiful as when</p> +<p>Reading that holy book, the while</p> +<p>I listened to thee, little dreaming,</p> +<p>Docile, gentle, pleasant child,</p> +<p>God who gave, <em>so soon would take thee</em>,</p> +<p>Even thee, so <em>sweet</em>, so <em>mild</em>.</p> +<p>But how merciful in chastening</p> +<p>Our father is—oh! bless his name—</p> +<p>Your little face was decked with smiles,</p> +<p>Dear child, just when the summons came.</p> +<p>Escaped from lingering sickness, thou hadst</p> +<p>Nought to mar thy little frame.</p> +<p>While ye mourn the dear departed,</p> +<p>Each bitter feeling disallow;</p> +<p>Look to heaven, ye broken hearted,</p> +<p>Look, and with submission bow.</p> +<p>In thy hour of deepest sorrow,</p> +<p>Never murmur, dare not blame;</p> +<p>God, who wounds, alone can heal thee;</p> +<p>Trust his power and praise his name.</p> +<p>Oh! may we say, <em>each</em>, every one,</p> +<p>“Not my will, but thine be done.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_16" name="Poem_16"></a>She Slumbers +Still.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>On a midsummer’s eve she lay down to sleep,</p> +<p>Wearied and toil-worn the maiden was then;</p> +<p>How deep was that slumber, how quiet that rest,</p> +<p>’Twas the sleep from which no one awakens again.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Morn returned in its freshness, and flowers that she loved</p> +<p>In beauty and fragrance were blooming around;</p> +<p>The birds caroled sweetly the whole live-long day,</p> +<p>But that strange mystic sleep all her senses had bound.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Day followed day until summer was gone,</p> +<p>And autumn still found her alone and asleep;</p> +<p>Stern winter soon followed, but its loud blasts and shrill,</p> +<p>Were powerless to rouse her from slumber so deep.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Again spring returns, and all nature revives,</p> +<p>And birds fill the groves with their music again;</p> +<p>But the eyes and the ears of that loved one are closed,</p> +<p>And on her these rich treasures are lavished in vain.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Unheeded by her the winter snow falls,</p> +<p>Its beautiful garment spring puts on in vain;</p> +<p>Many <em>summers</em> the birds her sad requiem have sung,</p> +<p>But to sound of sweet music she’ll ne’er wake +again.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There is <em>but one voice</em> that deep slumber can break,</p> +<p>’Tis the same one that loudly called, “Lazarus, come +forth!”</p> +<p>At the sound of that voice all the dead shall arise,</p> +<p>And before God shall stand all the nations on earth.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then shall this dear one, our first born, awake,</p> +<p>Her mortal put on immortality then;</p> +<p>And oh! blissful thought, that we once more may meet</p> +<p>In that home where’s no parting, death, sorrow, or +pain.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, May 29, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_17" name="Poem_17"></a>To a Friend in +the City,</h2> +<h3>From her Friend in the Country.</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>By especial request I take up my pen,</p> +<p>To write a few lines to my dear Mrs. N.;</p> +<p>And though nothing of depth she has right to expect;</p> +<p>Yet the <em>will</em> for the <em>deed</em> she will not +reject</p> +<p>The task, on reflection, is a heavy one quite,</p> +<p>As here in the country we’ve no news to write;</p> +<p>For what is to <em>us</em> very <em>new</em>, rich, and +rare,</p> +<p>To you in the city is stale and thread bare.</p> +<p>Should I write of Hungary, Kossuth, or the Swede,</p> +<p>They are all out of date, antiquated indeed.</p> +<p>I might ask you with me the New Forest to roam,</p> +<p>But it’s stript of its foliage, quite leafless become;</p> +<p>N.P. Willis and rival have each had their day,</p> +<p>And of rappings and knockings there’s nought new to +say.</p> +<p>Yet do not mistake me, or think I would choose,</p> +<p>A home in the city, the country to lose;</p> +<p>The music of birds, with rich fruits and sweet flowers,</p> +<p>We all in the country lay claim to as ours.</p> +<p>A bird that’s imprisoned, I hate to hear sing,</p> +<p>Let me catch its glad note as it soars on the wing;</p> +<p>Its carol so sweet as it’s floating along,</p> +<p>It seems the Creator to praise in its song.</p> +<p>With the sweetest of poets I often exclaim,</p> +<p>“God made the country,”—let the pride of man +claim</p> +<p>The town with its buildings, its spires, and its domes,</p> +<p>But leave us in the country our sweet quiet homes.</p> +<p>The scenery around us is lovely to view,</p> +<p>It charmed when a <em>child</em>, and at three-score charms +too.</p> +<p>Then leave me the country with its birds, fruits, and +flowers,</p> +<p>And the <em>town</em>, with its pleasures and crowds, may be +yours.</p> +<p>E’en in winter the country has right to the claim</p> +<p>Of charms equal to summer; to be sure, not the same.</p> +<p>See winter, stern monarch, as borne on the gale,</p> +<p>He comes armed <em>cap-a-pie</em> in his white coat of mail;</p> +<p>Behold what a change he hath wrought in <em>one</em> night,</p> +<p>He has robed the whole country in <em>pure spotless +white</em>.</p> +<p>He fails not to visit us once every year,</p> +<p>But finds us <em>prepared for him</em>—meets with good +cheer,</p> +<p>And a most cordial welcome from all of us here.</p> +<p>When with us he’s quite civil and very polite,</p> +<p>In manners most courtly, and dignified quite;</p> +<p>But I’m told were he goes unexpected he’s rough,</p> +<p>Chills all by his presence, and savage enough.</p> +<p><em>Hark, hear how it storms!</em> blowing high and yet +higher;</p> +<p>But then we’ve books, music, and a brilliant wood +fire,</p> +<p>Where logs piled on logs give one warmth e’en to see;</p> +<p>Oh! these evenings in winter are charming to me.</p> +<p>In good keeping these logs are with wind and the hail,</p> +<p>Everything in the country is on a <em>grand scale</em>.</p> +<p>You have nought in the city I think can compare,</p> +<p>To the bright glowing hearth from a good <em>country</em> +fire.</p> +<p>To be sure, now and then, one is cheered by the sight</p> +<p>Of wood fire in the city, but when at its height</p> +<p>Compared to <em>our fires</em>, Lilliputianal quite.</p> +<p>But here I will stop, for I think it quite time</p> +<p>To have done with my boasting, and finish my rhyme.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">M.A.H.T. Bigelow.<br /> +Weston, April 6, 1852.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>P.S.</p> +<p>And now, my dear friend, it is certainly fair,</p> +<p>Your city advantages you should compare</p> +<p>With ours in the country, let me know what they are.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_18" name="Poem_18"></a>Reply:</h2> +<h3>Which I am grateful for Permission to insert.</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Dear Madam,</p> +<p>Many thanks for your missive so charming in verse,</p> +<p>So kind and descriptive, so friendly and terse;</p> +<p>It came opportune on a cold stormy day,</p> +<p>And scattered ennui and “blue devils” away;</p> +<p>For though in the city, where “all’s on the +go,”</p> +<p>We often aver we feel only “so so,”</p> +<p>And sigh for a change—then <em>here</em> comes a +letter!</p> +<p>What could I desire more welcome and better?</p> +<p>But how to reply? I’m lost in dismay,</p> +<p>I cannot in rhyme my feelings portray.</p> +<p>The <em>nine</em> they discard me, I’m not of +<em>their</em> train,</p> +<p>They entreatingly beg, “I’ll ne’er woo them +again;”</p> +<p>But I’ll brave their displeasure, and e’en write to +<em>you</em></p> +<p>A few lines of doggrel, then rhyming adieu.</p> +<p>My errors do “wink at,” for hosts you’ll +descry,</p> +<p>And spare all rebuff, and the keen critic’s eye.</p> +<p>I appreciate all of your calm country life,</p> +<p>And feel you are happy as mother and wife;</p> +<p>Surrounded by taste, and <em>the friend</em> so refined,</p> +<p>Who with sterling good sense, loves the delicate mind;</p> +<p>Who with <em>you</em> can admire the “bird on the +wing,”</p> +<p>With <em>you</em> welcome back the return of the spring;</p> +<p>Enjoying the promise of fruits and sweet flowers,</p> +<p>With music to cheer and beguile evening hours;</p> +<p>Then <em>long</em>, very long, may such hours be +given—</p> +<p>They whisper content, and the foretaste of heaven.</p> +<p>I was born in the city, the city’s my home,</p> +<p>Yet oft in the country with pleasure I roam;</p> +<p>For <em>there</em>, I confess, the heart finds repose</p> +<p>In its pleasures and sorrows, which <em>here</em> it ne’er +knows.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><em>There</em> no fashion, no nonsense, intrude on your +walk,</p> +<p>But rational moments of rational talk,</p> +<p>Asserting that soiries, with jewels and dress,</p> +<p>Make a very small part of life’s happiness.</p> +<p>Ah! this I believe, most <em>sincerely</em> I do,</p> +<p>And sympathize freely, most truly with you.</p> +<p>Now Kossuth is coming, pray what’s to be done?</p> +<p>No pageant to welcome, to children no fun?</p> +<p>Some “turn a cold shoulder,” and look with +disdain,</p> +<p>Yet many there’ll be who will follow his train.</p> +<p>He’s “sure missed a figure,” and “bit +his own nose,”</p> +<p>Ah, many the thorn he’ll find ‘mid life’s +rose.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then we’ve concerts, fine readings, museum and halls,</p> +<p>With disputes, and debates, in legislative halls,</p> +<p>Ethiopian Minstrels, Shakesperian plays;</p> +<p>And yet, my dear friend, I’m told in these days,</p> +<p>Religion’s blessed joys are most faithfully felt,</p> +<p>With devotion’s pure prayers the proud heart to melt;</p> +<p>That many have turned to the straight narrow road,</p> +<p>Which leadeth to peace and communion with God.</p> +<p>To <em>you</em> this assurance a welcome will find,</p> +<p>A subject of vital concern to the mind.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When hither you come, do enter our door,</p> +<p>I’ll give you my hand, perhaps something more.</p> +<p>Let me urge, if inclined, to this you’ll reply,</p> +<p>I’ll again do my best, yes, surely I’ll try;</p> +<p>The fair one who brings it ought sure to inspire</p> +<p>Some poetical lay from Genius’ sweet lyre.</p> +<p>But Genius repels me, she “turns a deaf ear,”</p> +<p>And frowns on me scornful, the year after year;</p> +<p>Perhaps if I sue, in the “sere yellow leaf,”</p> +<p>She’ll open her heart, and yield me relief.</p> +<p>But wayward my pen, I must now bid adieu,</p> +<p>My friendship, dear madam, I offer to you,</p> +<p>And beg with your friends, you’ll please place my +name,</p> +<p>The privilege grant me of doing the same.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">S. Nicholson.<br /> +Boston, April 16, 1862.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_19" name="Poem_19"></a>Rejoinder to +the foregoing Reply.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Many, many thanks my friend,</p> +<p>For those sweet verses thou didst send,</p> +<p class="i4">So good they were and witty;</p> +<p>And now I will confess to thee,</p> +<p>Mixed up with bad, much good I see</p> +<p class="i4">Within the crowded city.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Boston, “with all thy faults I love</p> +<p>Thee still,” though much I disapprove—</p> +<p class="i4">See much in thee to blame;</p> +<p>Yet to be candid, I’ll allow</p> +<p>Thy equal no one can me show</p> +<p class="i4">From Mexico to Maine.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It is my boast, perhaps my pride,</p> +<p>To be to English blood allied,</p> +<p class="i4">Warm in my veins it’s flowing;</p> +<p>And when I see the homage given</p> +<p>To foreign men and foreign +<em>women</em>,<sup>1</sup><span class="sidenote">1.By this I do +not mean to include all foreigners, for some of them I consider +among the very best of our population, but dancers, &c., +&c.</span></p> +<p class="i4"><em>That blood with shame is glowing</em>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I hope when Kossuth fever’s cool</p> +<p>And we have put our wits to school,</p> +<p class="i4">And sober senses found;</p> +<p>When the Hungarian’s out of sight</p> +<p>And shattered brains collected quite,</p> +<p class="i4">We may be safe and sound.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But what simpletons, should we choose,</p> +<p>With nought to gain and much to loose,</p> +<p class="i4">’Gainst Austria to war;</p> +<p>What greater folly, when we know</p> +<p>By doing this, we’ll get a blow</p> +<p class="i4">From the ambitious Czar.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But you may not with me agree,</p> +<p>And I am getting warm I see,</p> +<p class="i4">So here I bid adieu</p> +<p>To Kossuth and to Hungary,</p> +<p>To Russia and to Germany,</p> +<p class="i4">And the great Emperor too.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And now my friend a word I’d say</p> +<p>Before I throw my pen away,</p> +<p class="i4">On subject most important;</p> +<p>In doing this I need not fear</p> +<p>I shall offend the nicest ear,</p> +<p class="i4">Or strike a note discordant.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! had I true poetic fire,</p> +<p>With boldness would I strike the lyre</p> +<p class="i4">So loud that all might hear;</p> +<p>But ah! my harp is tuned so low,</p> +<p>Its feeble strains I full well know</p> +<p class="i4">Can reach no distant ear.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Yet I rejoice that harps on high,</p> +<p>And voices of sweet harmony,</p> +<p class="i4">Are raised to bless the name</p> +<p>Of Him who sits upon the throne,</p> +<p>Rejoicing over souls new born,</p> +<p class="i4">Who soon will join with them,</p> +<p>Eternally His name to adore</p> +<p>Who died, yet lives forevermore.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, May 8, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_20" name="Poem_20"></a>To my Friend +Mr. J. Ellis.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>To thee, the guardian of my youthful days,</p> +<p>Fain would I pay some tribute of respect;</p> +<p>And though it falls far short of thy desert,</p> +<p>The <em>will</em> to do thee justice thou’lt accept.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As I recall the days of former years,</p> +<p>Thy many acts of kindness bring to mind,</p> +<p>Tears fill my eyes, in thee I’ve ever found</p> +<p>A friend most faithful, uniformly kind.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thou art the earliest friend of mine that’s +left—</p> +<p>The rest have long departed, every one;</p> +<p>They’ve long years since the debt of nature paid,</p> +<p>But thou remainest still, and thou alone.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The snow of four score winters thou has seen,</p> +<p>And life’s long pilgrimage may soon be o’er;</p> +<p>Respected, loved, and happy hast thou been,</p> +<p>With ample means to relieve the suffering poor,</p> +<p>Thou ever hadst the will, as well as power.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Temperate in habit, and of temper even,</p> +<p>Calm and unruffled as the peaceful lake,</p> +<p>To thee the satisfaction has been given</p> +<p>Much to enjoy, and others happy make.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And when thy days on earth shall all be past,</p> +<p>And thou before the Saviour’s bar appear,</p> +<p>Mayst thou be found clothed in his righteousness</p> +<p>And from his lips the joyful sentence hear—</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou</p> +<p>Hast over few things faithful been, and now</p> +<p>I’ll make thee ruler over many things,</p> +<p>And place a crown of glory on thy brow.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Such will be thy reward, my friend, and mine,</p> +<p>If trusting in Christ’s merits, <em>not our own</em>,</p> +<p>We at the last great day in him be found;</p> +<p><em>He</em> is the ark of safety—<em>He alone</em>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, April 24, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_21" name="Poem_21"></a>A +Pastoral.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! tell me ye shepherds, tell me I pray,</p> +<p>Have you seen the fair Jessie pass by this way?</p> +<p>You ne’er could forget her, if once you had seen,</p> +<p>She’s fair as the morning, she moves like a Queen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>My sheep are neglected, my crook’s thrown aside,</p> +<p>In pursuit of dear Jessie, sweet Jessie, my bride;</p> +<p>I hear nothing of her, no tidings can glean,</p> +<p>To <em>see</em> is to <em>know</em> her, she moves like a +Queen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Say, have you seen her? oh, pity my grief!</p> +<p>Speak <em>quick</em>, and impart me the needful relief;</p> +<p>You cannot forget her, if once you have seen,</p> +<p>She’s lovely as Venus, she moves like a Queen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Have you not seen her?—then listen I pray,</p> +<p>Oh! listen to what a poor shepherd can say</p> +<p>In the praise of one ne’er so lovely was seen;</p> +<p>She’s youthful as Hebe, she moves like a Queen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>She’s fair as the Spring in the mild month of May,</p> +<p>She’s brilliant as June decked in flowerets so gay;</p> +<p>You ne’er could forget her if once you had seen,</p> +<p>She’s charming as Flora, she moves like a Queen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! tell me not Damon, that yours can compare</p> +<p>To Jessie, sweet Jessie, with beauty so rare;</p> +<p>With a face of such sweetness, so modest a mien,</p> +<p>She’s like morn in its freshness, she moves like a +Queen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>You tell me your Sylvia is beautiful quite;</p> +<p>She may be, when Jessie is kept out of sight;</p> +<p>She is not to be mentioned with Jessie, I ween,</p> +<p>Her voice is sweet music, she moves like a Queen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then name not your Sylvia with Jessie I pray,</p> +<p>’Tis comparing dark night with the fair light of day;</p> +<p>Sylvia’s movements are clumsy, and awkwardly seen,</p> +<p>But Jessie is graceful, she moves like a Queen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Menalaus’ fair wife, for beauty far famed,</p> +<p>By the side of my Jessie is not to be named;</p> +<p>Paris ne’er had woo’d Helen, if Jessie he’d +seen,</p> +<p>She’s chaste as Diana, she moves like a Queen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! aid me, do aid me, ye shepherds, I pray!</p> +<p>The time is fast flying, no longer I’ll stay;</p> +<p>You cannot mistake her, there’s none like her seen,</p> +<p>She’s lovely as Venus, she moves like a Queen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Do help me to find her, I’m wild with affright,</p> +<p>The day passes swiftly, it soon will be night;</p> +<p>There’s none to compare with her, none like her seen,</p> +<p><em>More</em> lovely than Venus, she moves like a Queen.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_22" name="Poem_22"></a>The +Jessamine.</h2> +<h3>Eddie to Jessie.</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There are many flowers famous for fragrance and hue,</p> +<p>Sweet Roses and Lilies, Geraniums too;</p> +<p>And though decked in gay colors they look very fine,</p> +<p>They are not to my fancy like <em>sweet Jessie mine</em>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_23" name="Poem_23"></a>For the S.S. +Concert,</h2> +<h3>In the Wayland Orthodox Church.</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Feed my lambs! the Saviour said,</p> +<p>Near two thousand years ago;</p> +<p>If we truly love the Lord,</p> +<p>By obedience, love we’ll show.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>What was said to Peter then,</p> +<p>In that distant age and clime,</p> +<p>Sure is binding on us now,</p> +<p>Here and to the end of time.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>If our Shepherd then we love,</p> +<p>His commandments we’ll obey;</p> +<p>Let us true disciples prove,</p> +<p>Feed his lambs as best we may.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Twice twelve years have passed this day,<sup>2</sup><span class= +"sidenote">2. June 13, 1852.</span></p> +<p>Since our Sabbath School commenced;</p> +<p>Countless lessons have been learned,</p> +<p>Much instruction been dispensed.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Let us up and doing be,</p> +<p>Sow the seed all times and hours;</p> +<p>Cast our bread on water even,</p> +<p>Tax with vigor all our powers.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>May the teachers now engaged,</p> +<p>Courage take, and persevere;</p> +<p>They’ll not fail of their reward,</p> +<p>Though they may not meet it here.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>God is faithful, who hath said,</p> +<p>(Let the thought allay your fears,)</p> +<p>“They with joy shall surely reap,</p> +<p>Who have sown in prayers and tears.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then sow the seed with prayers and tears;</p> +<p>Never doubt, but faithful be;</p> +<p>Though thou reapest not for years,</p> +<p>A rich harvest thou wilt see.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Happy faces now we miss,</p> +<p>Who were wont these seats to fill;</p> +<p>Loved and lovely passed away,</p> +<p>Yet they’re fresh in memory still.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Soon their earthly race was run,</p> +<p>In the morning called away;</p> +<p>Others soon may follow them,</p> +<p>May all hear the Saviour say,</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Well done, faithful servant; thou</p> +<p>Hast o’er few things faithful been,</p> +<p>I will make the ruler now</p> +<p>Over many—enter in.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_24" name="Poem_24"></a>Feed my +Lambs.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Just before the bright cloud the Saviour received,</p> +<p>When about to return to his father in Heaven;</p> +<p>His mission accomplished, his work on earth done,</p> +<p>’Twas then that this parting injunction was given:</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Feed my lambs!” this was said to one of the +twelve,</p> +<p>Whom he called to be with him while sojourning here;</p> +<p>“Feed my lambs!” Oh, what love was evinced by those +words,</p> +<p>What tender compassion, what fatherly care.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Three times at this meeting the question was asked,</p> +<p>“Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?”</p> +<p>And though grieved, yet how truly could Peter reply,</p> +<p>“Lord thou knowest all things, thou know’st I love +thee.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thrice this same Peter his Lord had denied,</p> +<p>And had he not reason reproaches to fear?</p> +<p>Oh, no! for his Saviour had all this forgiven,</p> +<p>He saw his repentance, he knew it sincere.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>That disciple soon followed his Lord whom he loved,</p> +<p>And many long ages have since passed away;</p> +<p>But the parting command still remains in full force,</p> +<p>And will ever remain so till time’s latest day.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Many wolves in sheep’s clothing are still to be found,</p> +<p>Whom Satan fails not to instruct and employ;</p> +<p>They enter the fold, and with most specious wiles,</p> +<p>Seek the young of the flock to ensnare and destroy.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And shall we dare call ourselves followers of Christ,</p> +<p>And yet his known precepts presume to evade?</p> +<p>Ah! stop and reflect, what’s the test that’s +required?</p> +<p>“If ye love me, keep my commandments,” he said.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">June 26, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_25" name="Poem_25"></a>“God is +Love.”</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Come blest Spirit from above,</p> +<p>Come and fill my heart with love;</p> +<p>Love to God, and love to man,</p> +<p>Love to do the good I can;</p> +<p>Love to high, and love to low,</p> +<p>Love to friend, and love to foe.</p> +<p>Love to rich, and love to poor,</p> +<p>Love to beggar at my door.</p> +<p>Love to young, and love to old,</p> +<p>Love to hardened heart and cold.</p> +<p>Love, true love, my heart within</p> +<p>For the sinner, <em>not the sin</em>;</p> +<p>Love to holy Sabbath day,</p> +<p>Love to meditate and pray,</p> +<p>Love for love, for <em>hatred</em> even;</p> +<p><em>Love like this, is born of Heaven</em>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_26" name="Poem_26"></a>To my Friend +Mrs. Lloyd</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>My very dear friend</p> +<p>Should never depend</p> +<p>Upon anything clever or witty,</p> +<p>From a poor country wight</p> +<p>When attempting to write,</p> +<p>To one in your far famous city.</p> +<p>Indeed I’m inclined,</p> +<p>To fear that you’ll find</p> +<p>These lines heavy, and quite out of joint;</p> +<p>And now I declare,</p> +<p>It’s no more than fair,</p> +<p>Should this prove a dull letter,</p> +<p>That you write me a better;</p> +<p>And something that’s quite to the point.</p> +<p>This having premised</p> +<p>As at present advised,</p> +<p>I’ll indulge in the thoughts that incline,</p> +<p>Not with curious eye</p> +<p>The dim future to spy,</p> +<p>But glance backward to “Auld Lang Syne.”</p> +<p>If I recollect right,</p> +<p>It was a cold day quite,</p> +<p>And not far from night</p> +<p>When <em>the Boarding School famous</em> I entered.</p> +<p>Now what could I do?</p> +<p>Scarce above my own shoe</p> +<p>Did I dare take a view,</p> +<p>Or to speak, or e’en move hardly ventured.</p> +<p>At this school I remained</p> +<p>Till supposed to have gained</p> +<p>Education quite good and sufficient;</p> +<p>But one in those days,</p> +<p>Thought deserving of praise,</p> +<p>Would in these, be deemed very deficient.</p> +<p>And here we will try</p> +<p>Before the mind’s eye,</p> +<p>To bring forward a few of that household;</p> +<p>There were the witty,</p> +<p>Also the pretty,</p> +<p>But some very plain,</p> +<p>Not a few very vain,</p> +<p>And among them the phlegmatic and cold.</p> +<p>Though it seems out of place</p> +<p>I will here find a space</p> +<p>For some few in the lower apartment;</p> +<p>Sure this must be right,</p> +<p>They contributed quite</p> +<p>To our comfort, in their humble department.</p> +<p>Here’s Lydia and Polly,</p> +<p>And Peter the jolly,</p> +<p>With teeth white as ivory</p> +<p>And cheeks black as ebony,</p> +<p>So from Africa doubtless was he;</p> +<p>But we’ll ascend from below,</p> +<p>And see entering just now</p> +<p>With a Parisian bow</p> +<p>And all in a glow</p> +<p>Gay Monsieur Pichon,</p> +<p>And French teacher Faucon;</p> +<p>Also V——, the Musician,</p> +<p>And B——, Mathematician.</p> +<p>Monsieur Laboltierre,</p> +<p>So brisk and debonnair</p> +<p>Had also been there;</p> +<p>And there’s Eggleston fair,</p> +<p>With whom none might compare.</p> +<p>Miss W——, romantic,</p> +<p>Miss F——, transatlantic,</p> +<p>And of others a score you might see.</p> +<p>But here I propose</p> +<p>The long list to close,</p> +<p>With addition of only one name;</p> +<p>Amidst the gay throng</p> +<p>Was one lovely and young,</p> +<p>Who brought sunshine wherever she came.</p> +<p>She had light brown hair,</p> +<p>Was graceful and fair,</p> +<p>Of children many</p> +<p>Youngest of any,</p> +<p>And Margaret this maiden they call;</p> +<p>A sweet smile she had</p> +<p>That round her lips played,</p> +<p>And with eyes bright and blue</p> +<p>She’d a heart warm and true</p> +<p>And disposition affectionate withal.</p> +<p>One advantage she’ll allow</p> +<p>That I have over her now,</p> +<p>The same in our youthful days, when</p> +<p>On our studies intent</p> +<p>Over school desk we bent,</p> +<p>Her Senior I always have been.</p> +<p>How like to a dream</p> +<p>Do those days to me seem,</p> +<p>When with others preparing to enter</p> +<p>On the world’s great stage,</p> +<p>And with light heart engage</p> +<p>Our part in the drama to venture.</p> +<p>Of that school there’s not one</p> +<p>Except thee alone,</p> +<p>Whom now living as friend I can claim;</p> +<p>Some have departed,</p> +<p>Some are false hearted,</p> +<p>And their friendship exists but in name.</p> +<p>But that friendship’s long lived</p> +<p>That forty years has survived,</p> +<p>And may we not hope ’twill endure,</p> +<p>When in flames of fire</p> +<p>This earth will expire,</p> +<p>And old time shall itself be no more.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">July 12, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_27" name="Poem_27"></a>Escape of the +Israelites,</h2> +<h3>And Destruction of Pharaoh.</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah! short-sighted monarch, dost thou think to pursue</p> +<p>The Israel of God, and recapture them too?</p> +<p>Hast thou so soon forgotten the plagues on thee sent,</p> +<p>Or so hardened thy heart that thou can’st not relent?</p> +<p>Then make ready thy chariots, a long way they’ll +reach;</p> +<p>Thou hast six hundred chosen, a captain to each.</p> +<p>Now after them <em>hasten</em>, no time’s to be lost,</p> +<p>That God worketh for them, thou’st felt to thy cost.</p> +<p><em>Speed thee then, speed thee</em>, thou’lt soon them +o’ertake,</p> +<p>Thou hast so overtasked them they’re powerless and +weak.</p> +<p>Ah! weak and defenceless they truly appear,</p> +<p>But the Lord is their rock, they’re his special care.</p> +<p>See that pillar that’s leading them all on their way,</p> +<p>It’s a bright cloud by night and a dark cloud by day;</p> +<p>And now by the Red Sea behold they encamp,</p> +<p>But <em>hark</em>! what’s that sound, it’s the war +horse’s tramp.</p> +<p>Look up, see thy enemy close by thee now,</p> +<p>The sea lies before thee, ah! what canst thou do?</p> +<p>Moses bids them go forward at God’s command,</p> +<p>When the waters divide, and they walk on dry land;</p> +<p>And the cloud that to Egypt is darkness all night,</p> +<p>To the children of Israel, is a bright shining light.</p> +<p>And now have the Hebrews all safely passed through</p> +<p>The Red Sea, which Pharaoh assaying to do</p> +<p>Is destroyed with his host, every one of them drowned,</p> +<p>Not a man saved alive, not a <em>single man found</em></p> +<p>To return to lone Egypt, the sad news to bear</p> +<p>To the widows and orphans made desolate there.</p> +<p>But list! hear the rescued their glad voices raise,</p> +<p>And to timbrel and dance add the sweet song of praise,</p> +<p>For Pharaoh hath perished beneath the dark sea,</p> +<p>And the long enslaved Hebrews are happy and free.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">July 14, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_28" name="Poem_28"></a>Hymn,</h2> +<h3>Sung at the Ordination of the Rev. Henry Allen.</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>We meet to-day as ne’er before,</p> +<p>To greet a pastor of our choice,</p> +<p>Without a single jarring note,</p> +<p>And without one dissenting voice.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh thou who art enthroned on high,</p> +<p>Before whom holy angels bow,</p> +<p>Be pleased to hear us when we sing,</p> +<p>Accept the praises offered now.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Let no one present, dare to give,</p> +<p>The service of the lip alone;</p> +<p>Or think if they the heart withhold,</p> +<p>’Twill find acceptance at thy throne.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But with united heart and voice,</p> +<p>A grateful tribute we would raise;</p> +<p>Oh bless us all assembled now,</p> +<p>Help us to pray, and help to praise.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thou great Immanuel, who didst lead</p> +<p>Thy Israel all the desert through;</p> +<p>Like them we’re weak and helpless quite,</p> +<p>Oh! condescend to lead <em>us</em> too.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And when our Shepherd with his flock</p> +<p>Before thy throne shall re-appear,</p> +<p>May every one acceptance find,</p> +<p>And ceaseless praises offer there.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Sept. 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_29" name="Poem_29"></a>Margaret's +Remembrance of Lightfoot.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>My beautiful steed,</p> +<p>’Tis painful indeed</p> +<p>To think we are parted forever;</p> +<p>That on no sunny day,</p> +<p>With light spirits and gay,</p> +<p>Over hills far away,</p> +<p>We shall joyously travel together.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thy soft glossy mane</p> +<p>I shall ne’er see again,</p> +<p>Nor thy proudly arched neck ’gain behold;</p> +<p>Nor admire <em>that</em> in thee,</p> +<p>Which so seldom we see,</p> +<p>A kind, gentle spirit, yet bold.</p> +<p>Thou wert pleasant indeed</p> +<p>My darling grey steed,</p> +<p>“In my mind’s eye” thou’rt beautiful +still;</p> +<p>For when thou wert old</p> +<p>Thy heart grew not cold,</p> +<p>Its warm current time never could chill.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Not a stone marks the spot</p> +<p>Where they laid thee, Lightfoot,</p> +<p>And no fence to enclose thee around;</p> +<p>But what if there’s not,</p> +<p><em>Deep engraved on my heart</em></p> +<p>Thy loved image may ever be found.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_30" name="Poem_30"></a>"The Clouds +return after the Rain."</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Dark and yet darker my day’s clouded o’er;</p> +<p>Are its bright joys all fled, and its sunshine no more?</p> +<p>I look to the skies for the bright bow in vain,</p> +<p>For constantly “clouds return after the rain.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Must it always be thus, peace banished forever,</p> +<p>And joy to this sad heart returned again never?</p> +<p>I long for the rest that I cannot obtain,</p> +<p>For the clouds, so much dreaded, return after rain.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Is there not in this wide world one spot that is blessed</p> +<p>With exemption from suffering, where one may find rest;</p> +<p>Where sickness and sorrow no entranpe can gain,</p> +<p>And the clouds do not return after the rain?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah! deceive not thyself by a vain hope like this,</p> +<p>Nor expect in this world to enjoy lasting peace:</p> +<p>But bow with submission to God’s holy will,</p> +<p>For the hand that afflicts is thy kind Father’s still.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>If my days are dark here, there are brighter above,</p> +<p>In those pure realms of light, peace, joy, and of love;</p> +<p>Where the air is all balm, and the skies ever fair,</p> +<p>And the river of life, clear as crystal flows there.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There also, for healing the nations, are found</p> +<p>The leaves of the tree on which rich fruits abound;</p> +<p>There is no need of candle, for God is their light,</p> +<p>There never is darkness, for “<em>there</em> is no +night.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! may I there find, when this brief life is past,</p> +<p>By my Saviour prepared, a sweet home at last;</p> +<p>Where sin never enters, death, sorrow, nor care,</p> +<p>And clouds are not feared, for it never rains there.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">August 19, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_31" name="Poem_31"></a>The Nocturnal +Visit.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Lo the curtains of night around Palestine fall,</p> +<p>And Jerusalem’s streets into darkness are thrown;</p> +<p>The late-busy hum of men’s voices is hushed,</p> +<p>And the city is clad in dark livery alone.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But see through the dimness that half opened door,</p> +<p>And slowly emerging a figure behold;</p> +<p>A quick, furtive glance he has thrown all around,</p> +<p>For what is he thirsting, for blood, or for gold?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Stealthily, fearfully, onward he moves,</p> +<p>So light are his footsteps you scarce hear their tread;</p> +<p>Yet no midnight robber, no murderer is he,</p> +<p>Then why dread recognition—of man why afraid?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Let us follow his footsteps and learn where he goes;</p> +<p>And now at the door of a house see him stand;</p> +<p>But why wait so long ere admittance he seeks,</p> +<p>In attempting to knock, why trembles that hand?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He has come to the fountain of light and of life,</p> +<p>Before whom ne’er suppliant sued humbly in vain;</p> +<p>He has come for the knowledge that alone maketh rich,</p> +<p>And without which we’re poor, though the whole world we +gain.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He has come to learn wisdom of that lowly one,</p> +<p>Who spake as “never man spake” it was said;</p> +<p>And who, though so poor and despised among men,</p> +<p>Is the whole world’s Sustainer, creation’s great +Head.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But list to the words of the Saviour of men,</p> +<p>“Verily, verily I say unto thee,</p> +<p>That no man, except he be born again,</p> +<p>Is permitted the kingdom of heaven to see.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>How humbling to pride were these words of our Lord,</p> +<p>What fears in his guest they serve to awaken;</p> +<p>Though a ruler of Jews, he was yet in his sins;</p> +<p>The first step towards heaven he never had taken.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah! Nicodemus, how many like thee,</p> +<p>Would perceive all their boasted religion was vain,</p> +<p>Could they meet but his glance who “searcheth the +heart,</p> +<p>And trieth the reins of the children of men.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Sept. 9, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_32" name="Poem_32"></a>Sovereignty of +God and Free Agency of Man.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thou art a perfect Sovereign, oh my God!</p> +<p>And I rejoice to think that thou art so;</p> +<p>That all events are under thy control,</p> +<p>And that thou knowest all I think and do.</p> +<p>But some may ask, “then why am I to blame</p> +<p>Because I sin, if God hath made me thus?”</p> +<p>Stop, stop, my friend, God tempteth not to sin,</p> +<p>Thou dost it of thy own free will and choice.</p> +<p>Though God is Sovereign, we free agents are,</p> +<p>Accountable to him for all we do,</p> +<p>Feel, think, or say; and at the last great day,</p> +<p>A most exact account must render too.</p> +<p>With this conclusion be thou satisfied—</p> +<p><em>For all who will accept him, Christ hath died</em>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Sept. 19, 1862.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>God is a Sovereign, man free agent too;</p> +<p>How these to reconcile I do not know:</p> +<p>But <em>this</em> I know, if <em>lost</em>, the blame is +<em>mine</em>,</p> +<p>If saved, the <em>praise</em>, oh God! be <em>only +thine</em>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_33" name="Poem_33"></a>Autumn and +Sunset.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Hail, sober Autumn! thee I love,</p> +<p>Thy healthful breeze and clear blue sky;</p> +<p>And <em>more</em> than flowers of Spring admire</p> +<p>Thy falling leaves of richer dye.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>’Twas even thus when life was young,</p> +<p>I welcomed Autumn with delight;</p> +<p>Although I knew that with it came</p> +<p>The shorter day and lengthened night.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Let others pass October by,</p> +<p>Or dreary call its hours, or chill;</p> +<p>Let poets always sing of Spring,</p> +<p>My praise shall be of Autumn still.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And I have loved the setting sun,</p> +<p>E’en than his rising beams more dear;</p> +<p>’Tis fitting time for serious thought,</p> +<p>It is an hour for solemn prayer.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Before the evening closes in,</p> +<p>Or night’s dark curtains round us fall,</p> +<p>See how o’er tree, and spire, and hill,</p> +<p>That setting sun illumines all.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So when my earthly race is run,</p> +<p>When called to bid this world adieu,</p> +<p>Like yonder cloudless orb I see,</p> +<p>May <em>my</em> sun set in glory too.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Oct 8, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_34" name="Poem_34"></a>“My +times are in thy hand.”</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>My times are in thy hand, my God!</p> +<p>And I rejoice that they are so;</p> +<p>My times are in thy hand, my God,</p> +<p>Whether it be for weal or woe.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>My times are in thy hand, I know;</p> +<p>And if I’m washed in Jesus’ blood,</p> +<p>Though dark my pathway here below,</p> +<p>It leads directly up to God.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Since all thy children chastening need,</p> +<p>And all <em>so called</em> must feel the rod,</p> +<p>Why for exemption should I plead,</p> +<p>For am I not thy child, my God?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah why go mourning all the day,</p> +<p>Or why should I from trials shrink?</p> +<p>Though much of sorrow’s in my cup,</p> +<p>The cup that I am called to drink.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>’Tis needful medicine I know,</p> +<p>By the most skilful hand prepared,</p> +<p>Strictly proportioned to my wants,</p> +<p>There’s <em>not a drop</em> that can be spared.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then why desponding, oh my soul,</p> +<p>Because of trials here below?</p> +<p>They’re all appointed by my God,</p> +<p>My times are in thy hand, I know.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Jan. 18, 1863.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_35" name="Poem_35"></a>November.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Remember the poor, in the dark chilly day,</p> +<p>When November’s loud winds are fierce blowing;</p> +<p>Remember the poor, at thy plentiful board,</p> +<p>When the fire on thy bright hearth is glowing.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Remember the poor in yon damp dismal shed,</p> +<p>Without food, fire, or clothing to warm them;</p> +<p>And not like the Priest or the Levite pass by,</p> +<p>But Samaritan like stop and cheer them.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Remember the slave, the poor down trodden slave,</p> +<p>And do all in thy power to relieve him;</p> +<p>And when from oppression he strives to be free,</p> +<p>Do thou open thy gate to receive him.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>For what saith the Lord is thy duty to such,</p> +<p>“To his master thou shalt not return +him,”<sup>3</sup><span class="sidenote">3. See Deuteronomy, +23:15, 16.</span></p> +<p>But give him a home near thy own if he likes,</p> +<p>And be sure not to vex or oppress him.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When parents or children or brethren you meet,</p> +<p>In our happy New England and free,</p> +<p>Then remember the slave, the heart broken slave,</p> +<p>For thy brother, <em>thy brother</em> is he.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Remember him also when prayer for thyself,</p> +<p>In affliction’s dark hour doth ascend;</p> +<p>And when crying to God the father of all,</p> +<p>Let <em>his</em> wants with <em>thine own</em> kindly blend.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And at the last day, when the rich and the poor</p> +<p>Shall alike by the <em>Judge</em> be regarded;</p> +<p>When master and slave shall appear before God,</p> +<p>And a sentence impartial awarded,—</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The cup of cold water He will not forget,</p> +<p>But with other good acts bring to mind;</p> +<p>“When naked ye clothed me, when hungry ye fed,”</p> +<p>Will be uttered in accents most kind.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But when, blessed Saviour, ah when was the time,</p> +<p>That we fed, clothed, or visited thee?</p> +<p>“Such acts,” He replies, “to my poor brethren +done,</p> +<p>I consider as done unto me.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Nov. 1862.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_36" name="Poem_36"></a>Winter.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>His thundering car</p> +<p>Is heard from afar,</p> +<p>And his trumpet notes sound</p> +<p>All the country around;</p> +<p>Stop your ears as you will,</p> +<p>That loud blast and shrill</p> +<p>Is heard by you still.</p> +<p>Borne along by the gale,</p> +<p>In his frost coat of mail,</p> +<p>Midst snow, sleet, and hail,</p> +<p>He comes without fail,</p> +<p>And drives all before him,</p> +<p>Though men beg and implore him</p> +<p>Just to let them take breath,</p> +<p>Or he’ll drive them to death.</p> +<p>But he comes in great state,</p> +<p>And for none will he wait,</p> +<p>Though he sees their distress</p> +<p>Yet he spares them no less,</p> +<p>For the cold stiff limb</p> +<p>Is nothing to him;</p> +<p>And o’er countless blue noses,</p> +<p>His hard heart he closes.</p> +<p>His own children fear him</p> +<p>And dare not come near him;</p> +<p>E’en his favorite child<sup>4</sup><span class= +"sidenote">4. Spring.</span></p> +<p>Has been known to run wild</p> +<p>At his too near approach,</p> +<p>Her fear of him such,</p> +<p>And to shriek and to howl</p> +<p>And return scowl for scowl.</p> +<p>Indeed few dare him face,</p> +<p>And <em>all</em> shun his embrace;</p> +<p>For though pleasant his smile,</p> +<p>Yet one thinks all the while</p> +<p>Of that terrible frown,</p> +<p>Which the hardiest clown,</p> +<p>Though a stout hearted man,</p> +<p>Will avoid if he can.</p> +<p>And though many maintain</p> +<p>That he gives needless pain,</p> +<p>I confess I admire</p> +<p>This venerable sire.</p> +<p>True his language is harsh,</p> +<p>And his conduct oft rash,</p> +<p>And we know well enough,</p> +<p>That his manners are rough;</p> +<p>Yet still in the main,</p> +<p>We’ve no right to complain,</p> +<p>For if we prepare for him,</p> +<p>And show that we care for him,</p> +<p>We may in him find</p> +<p>A true friend and kind.</p> +<p>With us he will stay</p> +<p>Three months to a day,</p> +<p>So let us prepare</p> +<p>The snug elbow chair,</p> +<p>Which placed by the fire</p> +<p>For the hoary-head sire,</p> +<p>May comfort impart</p> +<p>And cheer his old heart.</p> +<p>Though he seems so unkind,</p> +<p>Yet always you’ll find</p> +<p>That his cold heart will warm,</p> +<p>And he’ll do you no harm</p> +<p>If your <em>own</em> can but <em>feel</em></p> +<p>For your poor neighbor’s weal;</p> +<p>And with pity o’erflowing,</p> +<p>Your free alms bestowing,</p> +<p>Never closing your door</p> +<p>On the suffering poor;</p> +<p>But clothe, feed, and warm them,</p> +<p>And see that none harm them.</p> +<em>E’en to others just do</em> +<p>As you’d wish them by you.</p> +<p>Let’s adopt but this plan,</p> +<p>To do good when we can,</p> +<p>And the dark stormy day</p> +<p>Will full quick pass away,</p> +<p>And we never complain</p> +<p>Of cold weather again,</p> +<p>Or of tedious long hours,</p> +<p>That are spent within doors;</p> +<p>For when winter winds blow,</p> +<p>And we’re hedged up by snow,</p> +<p>We shall find full employment,</p> +<p>And lack no enjoyment.</p> +<p>Thus prepared, let him come,</p> +<p>He will find us at home;</p> +<p>Bring wind, hail, or snow,</p> +<p>Blow high, or blow low,</p> +<p>We’re prepared for him now.</p> +<p>Then come winter, come,</p> +<p>You’ll find us at home.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Nov. 5, 1852.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There is within this heart of mine,</p> +<p>An aching void earth ne’er can fill;</p> +<p>I’ve tried its joys, its friendships proved,</p> +<p>But felt that aching void there <em>still</em>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thy love alone, my Saviour God,</p> +<p>True satisfaction can impart;</p> +<p>Can fill this aching void I feel,</p> +<p>And give contentment to my heart.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! cheer me by thy presence, Lord,</p> +<p>Increase my faith an hundred fold;</p> +<p>Be <em>thy name</em> on my forehead found,</p> +<p><em>Mine</em> in thy book of life enrolled.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Dec. 19, 1862.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Forever closed that dark blue eye,</p> +<p>Full and expressive, pensive too;</p> +<p>Thy light brown hair, and face so fair,</p> +<p>And graceful form are hid from view.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_37" name="Poem_37"></a>Life's +Changes.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A fair young girl was to the altar led</p> +<p>By him she loved, the chosen of her heart;</p> +<p>And words of solemn import there were said,</p> +<p>And mutual vows were pledged till death should part.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But life was young, and death a great way off,</p> +<p>At least it seemed so then, on that bright morn;</p> +<p>And they no doubt, expected years of bliss,</p> +<p>And in their path the rose without a thorn.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Cherished from infancy with tenderest care,</p> +<p>A precious only daughter was the bride;</p> +<p>And when that young protector’s arm she took,</p> +<p>She for the first time left her parents’ side.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>With all a woman’s tender, trustful heart,</p> +<p>She gave herself away to him she loved;</p> +<p>Why should she not, was he not all her own,</p> +<p>A choice by friends and parents too approved?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>How rapidly with him the days now fly,</p> +<p>With <em>him</em> the partner of her future life;</p> +<p>Happy and joyous as a child she’d been,</p> +<p>Happy as daughter, <em>happier still as wife</em>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But ere eight months in quick succession passed,</p> +<p>One to each human heart a dreaded foe,</p> +<p>Entered her house, and by a single stroke,</p> +<p>Blasted her hopes, and laid her idol low.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Three months of bitter anguish was endured,</p> +<p>But hope again revived, and she was blest,</p> +<p>When pressing to her heart a darling child,</p> +<p>Whose little head she pillowed on her breast.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Not long is she permitted to enjoy,</p> +<p>This sweetest bud of promise to her given;</p> +<p>Short as an angel’s visit was its stay,</p> +<p>When God, who gave it, took it up to heaven.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah, what a contrast one short year presents!</p> +<p>Replete with happiness—replete with woe;</p> +<p>In that brief space, a maiden called, and wife,</p> +<p>Widow and mother written—childless too.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Surely my friend, I need not say to thee,</p> +<p>Look not to earth for what it can’t bestow;</p> +<p>’Tis at the best a frail and brittle reed,</p> +<p>Which trusting for support, will pierce thee through.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then let us look above this fleeting earth,</p> +<p>To heaven and heavenly joys direct our eyes;</p> +<p>No lasting happiness this world affords—</p> +<p>“He builds too low who builds below the skies.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, Dec. 1, 1852.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_38" name="Poem_38"></a>Lines.</h2> +<p class="quote">“They will not frame their doings to turn +unto their God. Hosea, 5:4.”</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I would frame all my doings to please thee, my God!</p> +<p>’Tis from thee all my mercies proceed;</p> +<p>I would frame all my doings to serve thee, my God!</p> +<p>For thy service is freedom indeed.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I would frame all my doings to please thee, my God!</p> +<p>But how feeble my best efforts are;</p> +<p>Ah! how needful for me is thy chastening rod,</p> +<p>And a proof of thy fatherly care.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I would frame all my doings to serve thee, my God!</p> +<p>But my goodness extends not to thee;</p> +<p>And when on well doing I’m fully intent,</p> +<p>Alas! evil is present with me.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>My Creator, Preserver, Redeemer and King,</p> +<p>I would tax all my powers to obey;</p> +<p>But to Him let me look for the help that I need,</p> +<p>Who is the life, the light, and the way.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, Jan. 21, 1853.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_39" name="Poem_39"></a>“Take no +thought for the morrow.”</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Take no thought for the morrow, the Saviour hath said,</p> +<p>And he spake as ne’er man spake before;</p> +<p>“He carried our sorrows,” “was acquainted with +grief,”</p> +<p>And knew well what the heart could endure.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Let the morrow take care for the things of itself,</p> +<p>And not by its weight crush thee down;</p> +<p>Sufficient to-day is the evil thereof,</p> +<p>Let the ills of to-morrow alone.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Neither boast of to-morrow, for what is thy life,</p> +<p>But a vapor that floateth away;</p> +<p>Like a <em>tale</em> quickly told, or a <em>dream</em> of the +night,</p> +<p>That departs at the breaking of day.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Be not like the man who once said in his heart,</p> +<p>“I have goods that are laid by for years;”</p> +<p>But scarce had he planned how they best might be stored,</p> +<p>When he dies and leaves all to his heirs.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Neither <em>dread</em> then, nor <em>boast</em> of to-morrow, my +soul,</p> +<p>But make most of the time that’s now given;</p> +<p>Be the ground well prepared, with good seed sown thereon,</p> +<p>And ’twill yield a rich harvest in heaven.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Jan. 24, 1853.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_40" name="Poem_40"></a>Reminiscences +of the Departed.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>His mission soon accomplished,</p> +<p>His race on earth soon run,</p> +<p>He passed to realms of glory,</p> +<p>Above the rising sun.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So beautiful that infant,</p> +<p>When in death’s arms he lay;</p> +<p>It seemed like peaceful slumber,</p> +<p>That morn might chase away.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But morning light was powerless,</p> +<p>Those eyelids to unclose;</p> +<p>And sunshine saw and left him,</p> +<p>In undisturbed repose.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The light of those blue orbs</p> +<p>That drank the sunbeams in,</p> +<p>Now yields to night, and darkness</p> +<p>Holds undisputed reign.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>That little form so graceful,</p> +<p>The light brown chestnut hair;</p> +<p>Those half formed words when uttered,</p> +<p>That face so sweet and fair;</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>All, all his ways so winning,</p> +<p>Were impotent to save</p> +<p>His life, when called to yield it</p> +<p>By <em>Him that</em> life who gave.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So soon his voyage ended,</p> +<p>The passage home so short,</p> +<p>Before he knew of evil,</p> +<p>He entered safe the port.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Since thee, my child, I saw,</p> +<p>Long years have passed away;</p> +<p>Thy mother’s hair then brown,</p> +<p>Now’s intermixed with gray.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Another link’s been broken,</p> +<p>By death’s relentless hand;</p> +<p>A daughter has been taken,</p> +<p>The eldest of the band.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><em>Thy</em> little lamp of life,</p> +<p>Was put out in a day;</p> +<p>But <em>hers</em> was years expiring,</p> +<p>By slow yet sure decay.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But <em>one</em> short year of life,</p> +<p>Was all allotted thee;</p> +<p>But she, thy eldest sister,</p> +<p>Was <em>many</em> years spared me.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And though long since we parted,</p> +<p>On earth to meet no more;</p> +<p>I’d think of thee as children</p> +<p>“Not <em>lost</em>, but gone before.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Feb. 20, 1853.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_41" name="Poem_41"></a>“Let me +die the death of the righteous.”</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>By the river Euphrates the prophet abode,</p> +<p>To whom Balak his messengers sent,</p> +<p>Entreating his presence and curses on those</p> +<p>Who on Moab’s destruction were bent.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>By hundreds of thousands they’re marching along,</p> +<p>And by Moses, God’s servant, they’re led;</p> +<p>The rock for their thirst, cooling water supplies,</p> +<p>And with bread from the skies are they fed.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>They are felling the nations like trees on their way,</p> +<p>And their power there is none can resist;</p> +<p>“Come, curse me this people, oh! Balaam, I pray,</p> +<p>For he whom <em>thou</em> cursest is curst.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>With rich bribes in their hands have these messengers come,</p> +<p>Both from Moab and Midian are they;</p> +<p>Desiring the Prophet with them would return,</p> +<p>And this without any delay.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But the men are requested to stop over night,</p> +<p>That the will of the Lord he may learn;</p> +<p>And then if by Him he’s permitted to go,</p> +<p>He’ll accompany them on their return.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Now when earth her dark mantle of night had put on,</p> +<p>And men’s eyes in deep slumber were sealed;</p> +<p>In that solemn hour was the voice of God heard,</p> +<p>And his will to the Prophet revealed.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Thou shalt not go with them!” distinctly was +said,</p> +<p>“Nor to curse the Lord’s people presume;”</p> +<p>So the Princes of Moab returned as they came,</p> +<p>And left Balaam reluctant at home.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Again unto Balaam were messages sent,</p> +<p>More in number, in <em>rank higher still</em>,</p> +<p>With the promise if Balak’s request he would grant,</p> +<p>He may ask and receive what he will.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But Balaam declared that if Balak would give</p> +<p>Him his house full of silver and gold,</p> +<p>The word of the Lord he could <em>not</em> go beyond,</p> +<p>To do <em>more</em> or do less than he’s told.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Still the bait was quite tempting, and Balaam was weak,</p> +<p>And wicked he certainly proved;</p> +<p>E’en the Ass that he rode, <em>that</em> man’s +conduct condemned,</p> +<p>Who the gains of unrighteousness loved.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In the country of Moab at length he arrives,</p> +<p>And King Balak hath met face to face,</p> +<p>Who requests that with him a high hill he’d ascend,</p> +<p>And the Israelites curse from that place.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Three times seven altars were raised to the Lord,</p> +<p>And three times was the sacrifice made;</p> +<p>But the curse was withheld, for whom <em>God</em> pronounced +blest,</p> +<p>Even <em>Balaam</em> to <em>curse</em> was afraid.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Poor Balaam, thy case is a hard one indeed;</p> +<p>Like a house that’s divided thou art;</p> +<p>Both thy Maker and Mammon thou gladly would’st serve,</p> +<p>But the former requires thy whole heart.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Let me die the death of the righteous,” +say’st thou,</p> +<p>“And my last end like his let it be;”</p> +<p>But if like the righteous <em>unwilling to live</em>,</p> +<p><em>Never hope like the righteous to die</em>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">March 24, 1853.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Though life is young, and spirits gay,</p> +<p>And hope thy fond heart cheers;</p> +<p>Though friends are kind, and health is firm,</p> +<p>And death <em>far off</em> appears,</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Yet think not happiness like this,</p> +<p>Is destined long to last;</p> +<p>For ere to-morrow morn, perhaps,</p> +<p>Thy sky may be o’ercast.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah! let not pleasure blind thy eyes,</p> +<p>Or flattery lure thy heart;</p> +<p>But in the morning of thy life,</p> +<p>Secure the better part.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">March 29, 1853.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_42" name="Poem_42"></a>The Great +Physician.</h2> +<div class="quote"> +<p>“And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, +even so must the Son of man be lifted up.</p> +<p>“That whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but +have eternal life.”</p> +<p class="rgt">St. John, 3:14, 15.</p> +</div> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>What means that cry of anguish,</p> +<p>That strikes the distant ear;</p> +<p>The loud and piercing wailing,</p> +<p>In desert wilds we hear?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>From Israel’s camp it cometh,</p> +<p>For Israel hath rebelled;</p> +<p>And these are cries of anguish,</p> +<p>By wrath of God impelled.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It is no common sorrow,</p> +<p>Extorts that bitter groan;</p> +<p>’Tis from the broken hearted,</p> +<p>And caused by sin alone.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Lo! in the far off desert,</p> +<p>Upon that tented ground,</p> +<p>Are many hundred thousands</p> +<p>Of weary travellers found.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In desert of Arabia,</p> +<p>Near forty years they roam;</p> +<p>And soon they are to enter</p> +<p>“Canaan their happy home.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But come with me and visit</p> +<p>A people so distressed;</p> +<p>They are the seed that Jacob</p> +<p>When dying pronounced blessed.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>We’ll draw aside the curtain</p> +<p>Of tent that’s nearest by;</p> +<p>Ah! what a mournful picture</p> +<p>For stranger’s curious eye.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>See on that couch reclining,</p> +<p>A young and lovely girl,</p> +<p>With brow and neck half shaded.</p> +<p>By many a clustering curl.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>She was an only daughter,</p> +<p>Nurtured with tenderest care;</p> +<p>The idol of her parents,</p> +<p>And fairest of the fair.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In bloom of youth and beauty,</p> +<p>But yesterday she shone;</p> +<p>And her fond parents thought her</p> +<p>A mine of wealth unknown.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>She seems like one that sleepeth,</p> +<p>But there’s no sign of breath;</p> +<p>And coil’d ’neath her arm a serpent,</p> +<p>Whose bite is <em>certain death</em>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Yet not alone the mourners</p> +<p>In this sad tent are found;</p> +<p>Shriek after shriek is echoed</p> +<p>For many miles around.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The mother, too, is bitten,</p> +<p>With infant in her arms;</p> +<p>And sire, in strength of manhood;</p> +<p>And bride, with all her charms.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But see on pole suspended,</p> +<p>A serpent now appears;</p> +<p>And hark! what blissful tidings</p> +<p>Salute the mourner’s ears.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>For every one that’s bitten,</p> +<p>A remedy is found;</p> +<p>However bad the case is,</p> +<p>However deep the wound.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>If but <em>one spark</em> remaineth</p> +<p>Of life in any soul,</p> +<p>Just look upon this serpent,</p> +<p>That look will make thee whole.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But there’s a wound that’s deeper</p> +<p>Than fiery serpent gave;</p> +<p>And bite that’s <em>doubly</em> fatal,</p> +<p>It kills beyond the grave.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And there’s a great physician,</p> +<p>That e’en <em>this wound</em> may cure;</p> +<p>And those to him applying,</p> +<p>May life and health secure.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The broken heart he healeth,</p> +<p>He cures the sin-sick soul;</p> +<p>And all who will behold him,</p> +<p>May <em>look</em> and be made whole.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“I am the way!” he crieth;</p> +<p>“And all who will may come,</p> +<p>I’ll pardon their transgression,</p> +<p>And safe conduct them home.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“To cleanse from all pollution,</p> +<p>My blood doth freely flow;</p> +<p>And sins, though red as scarlet,</p> +<p>Shall be as white as snow.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Thy ransom to pay for thee,</p> +<p>E’en my own life it cost;</p> +<p>And he such love that slighteth,</p> +<p>Forever shall be lost.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">April 14, 1853.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_43" name="Poem_43"></a>To my Niece, +Mrs. M.A. Caldwell.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When days are dark and spirits low,</p> +<p>And hope desponding stands,</p> +<p>What comfort these few words bestow,</p> +<p>“My times are in thy hands.”</p> +<p>That thought should every fear allay,</p> +<p>And every cloud dispel;</p> +<p>For we are in the hands of <em>One</em></p> +<p>Who “doeth all things well.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He clothes the lily of the field,</p> +<p>Paints the gay tulip’s leaf,</p> +<p>Hears the young ravens when they cry,</p> +<p>And hastes to their relief.</p> +<p>That little sparrow in thy path,</p> +<p>He noticed when it fell;</p> +<p>Numbereth the hairs upon thy head,</p> +<p>And “doeth all things well.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then say not when with cares oppressed,</p> +<p>He hath forsaken me;</p> +<p>For had thy father loved thee less,</p> +<p>Would he so chasten thee?</p> +<p>A friend he takes, a Husband too,</p> +<p>A Child, with him to dwell;</p> +<p>Selects the day, the place, the hour—</p> +<p>“He doeth all things well.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>His power is <em>heard</em> when thunders roll,</p> +<p><em>Felt</em> when the cold wind blows,</p> +<p><em>Seen</em> in the vivid lightning’s flash,</p> +<p>And in the blushing rose.</p> +<p>He cares for monarch on his throne,</p> +<p>For hermit in his cell,</p> +<p>For sailor on the mighty deep—</p> +<p>“He doeth all things well.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He raiseth one to high estate,</p> +<p>He brings another low;</p> +<p><em>This year</em> an empire doth create</p> +<p>The <em>next</em> may overthrow.</p> +<p>What he may plan for you or me,</p> +<p>While here on earth we dwell,</p> +<p>We know not—but of this I’m sure,</p> +<p>“He doeth all things well.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">Weston, April 18, 1853.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_44" name="Poem_44"></a>The Morning +Drive.</h2> +<h3>For my Daughter Margaret.</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Very like to a dream,</p> +<p>Doth the time to me seem,</p> +<p>When with thee a young girl by my side,</p> +<p>One of summer’s fine days,</p> +<p>In a one pony chaise,</p> +<p>We commenced in the morning our ride.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>By the pine grove and nook,</p> +<p>Over bridge and through brook,</p> +<p>Quite at random we drove without fear;</p> +<p>While the birds of the grove,</p> +<p>In sweet harmony strove,</p> +<p>By their concert of music to cheer.</p> +<p>With none to molest us,</p> +<p>No home cares to press us,</p> +<p>Farther onward, and onward we roam;</p> +<p>But at length the skies lower,</p> +<p>And unhoped for the shower</p> +<p>Finds us many miles distant from home.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Even so is life’s day,</p> +<p>Like a fair morn in May,</p> +<p>With hope’s bright bow of promise it cheers;</p> +<p>But long before night,</p> +<p>The sun that so bright</p> +<p>In the morning had shone, disappears.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Do not then I entreat,</p> +<p>My beloved Margaret,</p> +<p>Be content with this world for thy portion;</p> +<p>Let ambition soar <em>higher</em>,</p> +<p>E’en <em>above</em> earth aspire,</p> +<p>And to God give thy heart’s true devotion.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">April 29, 1853.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_45" name="Poem_45"></a>Reply to a +Toast,</h2> +<h3>Sent by Mr. W. to the Ladies of Wayland, at their Fair held on +May-Day.</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Many, <em>many</em> kind thanks from the Waylanders fair,</p> +<p>Who are sorry, quite sorry you could not be there,</p> +<p>To receive their warm greeting, partake of their cheer,</p> +<p>And repaid by their smiles for your wishes sincere.</p> +<p>That health and content may your footsteps attend,</p> +<p>Believe me, dear sir, is the wish of your friend.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="dateline">May 2, 1853.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_46" name="Poem_46"></a>To Mr. +C.R.</h2> +<h3>For many Years deprived of Sight.</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>They say the sun is shining</p> +<p>In all his splendor now,</p> +<p>And clouds in graceful drapery,</p> +<p>Are sailing to an fro.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>That birds of brilliant plumage,</p> +<p>Are soaring on the wing;</p> +<p>Exulting in the daylight,</p> +<p>Rejoicing as they sing.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>They tell me too that roses,</p> +<p>E’en in <em>my</em> pathway lie;</p> +<p>And decked in rich apparel,</p> +<p>Attract the passers by.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>They say the sun when setting,</p> +<p>Is glorious to behold;</p> +<p>And sheds on all at parting,</p> +<p>A radiant crown of gold.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And then the night’s pale empress,</p> +<p>With all her glittering train,</p> +<p>The vacant throne ascending,</p> +<p>Resumes her peaceful reign.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>That she in queenly beauty,</p> +<p>Subdued yet silvery light,</p> +<p>Makes scarcely less enchanting</p> +<p>Than day, the sober night.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But sights like these so cheering,</p> +<p>Alas, I cannot see!</p> +<p>The daylight and the darkness</p> +<p>Are both alike to me.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Yet there’s a world above us,</p> +<p>So beautiful and fair,</p> +<p>That nothing here can equal,</p> +<p>And nought with it compare.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There, in a blaze of glory,</p> +<p>Amidst a countless throng,</p> +<p>The Saviour smiles complacent,</p> +<p>While listening to their song.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ten thousand times ten thousand,</p> +<p>Their cheerful voices raise,</p> +<p>While golden harps in harmony</p> +<p>Are tuned to sound the praise</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Of Him the blest deliverer,</p> +<p>Who conquered when he fell;</p> +<p>The man of many sorrows,</p> +<p>The <em>Great Immanuel</em>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But stop—I dare not venture</p> +<p>Too far on holy ground;</p> +<p>Its <em>heights</em> are too exalted,</p> +<p>Its <em>depths</em> are too profound.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Yet may I be permitted,</p> +<p>When this brief life is past,</p> +<p>The hope in yon bright heaven,</p> +<p>To find my home at last.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When cleansed from all pollution,</p> +<p>From sin and sorrow free,</p> +<p>I, with unclouded vision,</p> +<p>My Saviour God may see</p> +</div> +</div> +. +<p class="dateline">Brooklyn, May, 1853.</p> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_47" name="Poem_47"></a>To my +Missionary Friends,</h2> +<h3>Mr. and Mrs. I.G. Bliss.</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Why, dear friends, oh! tell us wherefore</p> +<p>You’re so anxious to be gone;</p> +<p>Is the country late adopted</p> +<p>Dearer to you than your own?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Have you found a father, mother,</p> +<p>In that distant clime to love,</p> +<p>Or a sister, friend, or brother,</p> +<p>Better than the long-tried prove?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Oh, no! believe us, no such motives</p> +<p>Prompt us to tempt old ocean’s wave;</p> +<p>We go among the poor benighted,</p> +<p>Perhaps to find an early grave.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Ah! you know not half our anguish—</p> +<p>Only those who <em>feel</em> can tell—</p> +<p>When we think of the sad parting,</p> +<p>And that solemn word—farewell.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“But while lingering, souls are dying,</p> +<p>Souls that Jesus came to save;</p> +<p>And of such a priceless value,</p> +<p>That for them his life he gave.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Trials great no doubt await us</p> +<p>In that distant home of ours;</p> +<p>Work requiring so much labor,</p> +<p>As to exceed our utmost powers.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“But He who said ‘Go preach the gospel,’</p> +<p>All powerful is, to aid, defend;</p> +<p>‘Lo I am with you always,’ said he,</p> +<p>‘And will be even to the end.’</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“With such command, and such a promise,</p> +<p>Sure our path of duty’s plain;</p> +<p>Do not then, dear friends, persuade us</p> +<p>Longer with <em>thee</em> to remain.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Go then, go! we’ll not detain you,</p> +<p>We dare not ask your longer stay;</p> +<p>And may winds and waves of ocean,</p> +<p>Waft you safely on your way.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>They who all forsake for Jesus,</p> +<p>Father, mother, country, home,</p> +<p>Here an hundred fold are promised,</p> +<p>And eternal life to come.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Go then, go! but when far distant,</p> +<p>Bear us sometimes on your mind;</p> +<p>When for others interceding,</p> +<p>Forget not those you leave behind.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And when your earthly warfare’s ended,</p> +<p>And you have laid your armor down,</p> +<p>May souls of poor benighted Asia</p> +Add <em>many</em> stars to your bright crown.</div> +</div> +<h2 class="title"><a id="Poem_48" name="Poem_48">To My +Husband.</a></h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Just two-and-forty years have passed<sup>5</sup><span class= +"sidenote">5. July 14, 1853.</span></p> +<p>Since we, a youthful pair,</p> +<p>Together at the altar stood,</p> +<p>And mutual vows pledged there.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Our lives have been a checkered scene,</p> +<p>Since that midsummer’s eve;</p> +<p>Much good received our hearts to cheer,</p> +<p>And much those hearts to grieve.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Children confided to our care,</p> +<p>Hath God in kindness given,</p> +<p>Of whom five still on earth remain,</p> +<p>And two, we trust, in heaven.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>How many friends of early days,</p> +<p>Have fallen by our side;</p> +<p>Shook by some blast, like autumn leaves</p> +<p>They withered, drooped, and died.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But still permitted, hand in hand</p> +<p>Our journey we pursue;</p> +<p>And when we’re weary, cheered by glimpse</p> +<p>Of “<em>better land</em>” in view.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>We may not hope in this low world,</p> +<p>Much longer to remain,</p> +<p>But oh! there’s rapture in the thought,</p> +<p>That we may meet again.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Kings and Queens of England with +Other Poems, by Mary Ann H. 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Bigelow + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Kings and Queens of England with Other Poems + +Author: Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow + +Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14955] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KINGS AND QUEENS *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Tozier, Barbara Tozier, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + [Inscription: I will add a few words respecting my kings and + Queens. + + They were hastily written from the impulse of the moment, for my + own entertainment, and that of my youngest grand-daughter, without + the remotest idea of printing them. This is my apology for the + careless, familiar style in which they were composed. At the + request of my children I concluded to print them, when it would + have been highly proper to have furnished my royal personages with + a dress more befitting the occasion. But the state of my eyes + rendered it very inconvenient, if not hazardous to attempt it. + And as they are only intended to visit a few of my friends, I + trust to their good nature to excuse the homely garb in which they + are presented.] + + + + +THE + +KINGS AND QUEENS OF ENGLAND + +WITH + +OTHER POEMS + + +BY + + +MARY ANN H.T. BIGELOW + + + +PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR + +MDCCCLIII. + + + + +TO THE +COMPANION OF HER YOUTH, MIDDLE AGE, AND DECLINING YEARS, +THE FOLLOWING POEMS ARE INSCRIBED +BY HIS +AFFECTIONATE WIFE, + +MARY ANN H.T. BIGELOW. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +I must claim the indulgence of my friends for the many defects they will +find in my poems, which they will please wink at, remembering that I was +sixty years old when I commenced rhyming; and this by way of experiment, +while on a visit to my daughter, in Brooklyn. + +My first essay, was The Monarchs of England. I took it up for my +amusement, wishing to ascertain how much of that history I could recollect +without help from any other source than memory. + +The rhyme is in many places far from smooth, and there are many +redundances that might with advantage be lopped off; and were it to come +under the critic's eye to be reviewed, I should feel it quite necessary to +improve it, (the poetry, I mean.) But as it would require quite too much +exertion for my eyes in their present state, and as the history, dates, +&c., I believe, are correct, I send it to the press "with all its +imperfections on its head." + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + Kings and Queens of England + To my Daughter Elizabeth + Acrostic + The Evening of Life + An Acrostic + An Acrostic + Written upon receiving a New Year's Gift + Lines to the Memory of Patrick Kelley + My S.S. Class + For my Grandsons, Eddie and Allie + For my Granddaughters, M. and L., an Acrostic + To my Friend, Mrs.R. + To my Niece, Angeline + An Acrostic + An Acrostic + She slumbers still + To a Friend in the City + Reply + Rejoinder to the foregoing Reply + To my Friend, Mr.J. Ellis + A Pastoral + The Jessamine + For the Sabbath School Concert + Feed my Lambs + God is Love + To my Friend, Mrs. Lloyd + Escape of the Israelites + Ordination Hymn + Margaret's Remembrance of Lightfoot + The Clouds return after the Rain + The Nocturnal Visit + Sovereignty and Free Agency + Autumn and Sunset + "My times are in thy hand" + November + Winter + Life's Changes + "They will not frame their doings" + "Take no thought for the morrow" + Reminiscences of the Departed + "Let me die the death of the righteous" + The Great Physician + To my Niece, Mrs. M.A. Caldwell + The Morning Drive, for my Daughter Margaret + Reply to a Toast + To Mr. C.R. + To my Missionary Friends + To my Husband + + + + +POEMS. + + + + +THE KINGS AND QUEENS OF ENGLAND, + +FROM THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS OR THE NORMAN CONQUEST, TO THE PRESENT REIGN, +INCLUSIVE. + + +First, William the Norman lays claim to the crown +And retains it till death; then follows his son +The red headed William, whose life is cut short +By a shot from his friend, when hunting for sport. +Then Henry his brother takes quiet possession, +As Henry the first, of the great English nation. +Next Stephen, a kinsman gets the crown by his might, +But no one pretends to say he had a right. +Then comes Hal the second, who cuts a great figure +With Becket, fair Rosamond and Queen Eliner. +The Lion-hearted _Richard_, first of that name, +Succeeded his father in power and in fame; +He joined the Crusade to a far distant land +But his life was cut short by a murderous hand. +Next comes the _cruel_ and _cowardly_ John, +From whose hand, reluctant, Magna Charta was won. +Then his son Henry third, deny it who can? +Though unfit for a King, was yet a good man, +And his reign though a long one of fifty-six years +Was full of perplexities, sorrows, and fears. +His son Edward first next governs the nation, +Much respected and feared, in holding that station. +The Principality of Wales was annexed in his reign, +And his son Edward second, first Prince of that name. +But what shall I say of King Edward the third, +The most remarkable reign, that yet had occurred; +Fire arms in the war, were _first_ used in his reign, +And the battle of _Cressy_ of great note and fame, +To their introduction has the right to lay claim. +The knights of the Garter, first made in his reign +In honor it seems of a fair English dame, +The Duchess of Salisbury to whom it is said, +From Edward _peculiar_ attentions were paid. +Of Richard the second we have little to say, +And take up the fourth Henry, the next on our way, +Who reigned fourteen years, when death cut him down +And left his good Kingdom to Henry his son; +But ere nine years had past, the fifth Henry was borne +To the region of darkness from whence none return. +The next reign is full of commotion and strife, +And Henry the sixth is seen flying for life; +For though King of England, we cannot but see +He's but the shadow of a king--that _should_ be; +And during the thirty-nine years that he reigned +His crown and his sceptre were feebly retained. +It was in this reign on her mission intent, +That Joan of Arc to the battle field went: +The French troops were elated, the English dismayed +At the wonderful victories achieved by her aid; +At length fortune turns, and 'tis needless to tell +Of the fate of this maiden--it is all known too well. +Of Edward the fourth it seems proper to say +That he fancied Dame Shore, when wed to Bess Gray. +But the fate of Jane Shore, should be warning to all +Who from love, or ambition, are tempted to fall. +When Edward the fourth departed this earth, +He left two little sons, both Royal by birth; +But ere three years had pass'd, both met with their doom, +By a most cruel uncle, cut down in their bloom +Of youth, love, and beauty, and laid in the tomb. +King Edward the fifth was the eldest one's name, +Though never permitted by his uncle to reign. +Next comes cruel Richard, the third of that name, +Whose vices surpassing put others to shame. +When unhorsed in battle, he's so anxious to live, +That he cries "for a horse, my kingdom I'll give." +But in the same battle he had his last fall-- +Lamented by none, but detested by all. +In the next reign the wars of the roses, all ended, +And the red rose and white, forever were blended; +For when Henry the seventh took Bessy his bride, +The knot of the roses forever was tied; +And when the sceptre descended from father to son, +The red and the white leaves all mingled in one. +King Henry the eighth had quite a long reign +Mixed up with his Anne's, his Katy's and Jane. +But from this King we turn with disgust and with shame, +And greet with delight, the sixth Edward by name. +But only six years did this King fill the throne, +When called to resign it and lay his crown down. +A worthier we think, has never set +On the throne of Great Britain--at least not as yet. +With pleasure we love to contemplate him now, +With a bright crown of Glory, encircling his brow, +In the region of _light, love, peace_, and of joy, +Where pleasures eternal can have no alloy. +Sin, sickness, and death, never find entrance there, +For the air is all balm, and the skies ever fair; +The clouds of his young life have all passed away +And he enjoys the full light of an endless day-- +For all who find footing on that peaceful shore, +Shall hunger, and thirst, and sorrow no more. +But once more we return to this "dim speck of earth," +And revisit the clime that gave Edward his birth. +Bloody Mary his sister, next mounted the throne, +But when five years had pass'd, was obliged to lay down, +Notwithstanding reluctance, her Sceptre and Crown. +For death to whom she had sent many a one, +Now called for his victim, and made her his own. +Not by _fire_ and by _faggot_ was _she_ hurried away, +But by painful sickness and loathsome decay. +Now commences the reign of the "Good Queen Bess," +But _why_ she's called _good_ I never could guess: +Yet justice constrains me to allow in the main, +That her's was a glorious and most prosperous reign. +She had the good sense to know whom to admit +To her private councils, as men the most fit; +And by their advice, good sense and discretion, +She managed with _fitness_ to govern the nation. +As a Queen she seems great, though _weak_ as a woman, +And when praised as a _Goddess_, was no more than human; +At the age of threescore, she loved to be compared +As a beauty to Venus, though crook'd and red haired. +Of lovers she had full many a one, +Who sought, through her hand, a pass to the throne, +But chose to remain single; for full well she knew, +That in giving her hand, she gave away her power too. +In this reign we find ineffacible blots, +In the treatment of Essex, and Mary of Scots; +The death of the former, the Queen sorely repents, +And for her lost Essex she deeply laments. +The remorse of a Countess, in keeping his ring, +I leave to some rhymer, more able to sing. +Next James sixth of Scotland, _first_ of England became-- +In peace and security permitted to reign. +In the person of James, two crowns were united, +And England and Scotland remain undivided. +With this king the reign of the Stuarts began, +And continued to the end of the reign of Queen Ann. +In the reign of Charles first, commences a strife +Between King and Parliament, that ends but with life; +This poor King was beheaded, his son had to flee, +And in his place Oliver Cromwell we see. +Now in Cromwell the ruler of England we find; +Right or wrong, I never could make up my mind; +Still all must allow (for deny it who can?) +That this same Oliver was a very great man. +In eleven years the days of the Commonwealth ended. +And gay Charles the second, the throne then ascended. +This second king Charles king of hearts might be call'd, +For many a fair one he seems t' have enthrall'd. +James second, brother of Charles second succeeded, +But after a reign of four years, he seceded; +When quitting his throne, and his country he flies +Over the channel to France, where he dies. +Next the Prince of Orange, (from Holland he came,) +For the crown of old England, asserted his claim +Through right of his wife, Princess Mary by name. +And William the third with Mary his wife +Are crowned King and Queen of England for life. +This princess was lovely in person and mind, +As a wife most devoted, a _friend ever_ kind. +Queen Ann's is the next reign that in order appears +And it covers the space of thirteen full years. +Her death brought the reign of the Stuarts to a close, +But firm on their ruins, the House of Hanover rose. +With this house the reign of the Georges begins-- +And four in succession we count up as Kings. +George the third, grandson of the second, so called, +Was for virtues and goodness of heart much extolled. +His reign the longest of any appears, +Bearing title of king for sixty-two years. +But when aged four score, this good king we find +Bereft of his senses and hearing, and blind. +In this reign America declared herself free, +And independent of rulers over the sea. +At length death relieved him, and he was cut down, +To make way for his eldest and libertine son. +But though of talent acknowledged the son possessed more, +The _sire's heart was good_, the _son's corrupt at the core_; +Though admired for his beauty, and manners, and wit, +As a husband and father he never was fit. +But before we pass on to the next reign in course, +We have a most sorrowful tale to rehearse, +Of the young princess Charlotte, next heir to the crown, +In the spring time of life, scarce with warning cut down. +If ever the nation were mourners sincere, +'Twas when they united around the sad bier +Of this youthful princess so deservedly dear; +And stout-hearted men unaccustomed to mourn, +Let bitter tears fall, as they gazed on her urn. +But who can describe the anguish of one, +The heart-stricken husband apart and alone. +As the sun of his happiness rose to its height, +Death enters his dwelling, and lo! it is night; +The light of his house forever has fled, +For his loved one, his dearest, lies low with the dead. +In the _same_ day all his fair prospects were crossed, +When a _wife_, and a _son_, and a _kingdom_ he lost. +Next William the fourth, is proclaimed Britain's king, +For between him and his brother two deaths intervene. +No _legitimate_ child did he leave in possession +Of the Crown of old England, in right of succession; +So the diadem passed to the youthful brow +Of his niece Queen Victoria, who honors it now; +And for her we wish, as our rhyming we close, +A _long, peaceful reign_--an old age of repose. + +Written while on a visit at Brooklyn, N.Y., 1851. + + + + +TO MY DAUGHTER ELIZABETH. + + +Two flowers upon one parent stem +Together bloomed for many days. +At length a storm arose, and _one_ +Was blighted, and cut down at noon. + +The other hath transplanted been, +And flowers _fair_ as _herself_ hath borne; +She too has felt the withering storm, +Her strength's decayed, wasted her form. + +May he who hears the mourner's prayer, +Renew her strength for years to come; +Long may He our Lilly spare, +Long delay to call her home. + +But when the summons shall arrive +To bear this lovely flower away, +Again may she transplanted be +To blossom in eternity. + +There may these sisters meet again, +Both freed from sorrow, sin, and pain; +There with united voices raise, +In sweet accord their hymns of praise; +Eternally his name t' adore, +Who died, yet _lives forevermore_. + +Weston, Jan. 3, 1852. + + + + +ACROSTIC. + + +For thee, my son, a mother's earnest prayer +Rises to Heaven each day from heart sincere, +Anxiously seeking what concerns thee most; +Not merely earthly good for thee she prays, +Knowledge, or wealth, or fame, or length of days, +What shall these profit, if the soul be lost. + +In this life we find alternate day and night, +Not always darkness, _sure not always_ light; +'Tis well it should be so, we're travellers here, +Home, _that_ "sweet home," the Christian's place of rest, +Rises by faith to view when most distressed: +Oh! this life past--mayst thou find entrance there. + +Perplexed, distressed, sick, or by friends betrayed, +Beset with snares, deprived of human aid, +In all thy sorrows whatsoe'er they be, +Go to the Saviour, tell him all thy need, +Entreat his pity, he's a friend indeed; +Lay hold by faith on _Him_, and he will succor thee. +Oh, do not live for this dull world alone, +When with the _Angels_ thou mayst find a home. + +Jan. 1853. + + + + +THE EVENING OF LIFE. + + +As the shadows of evening around me are falling, +With its dark sombre curtain outspread, +And night's just at hand, chilly night so appalling, +And day's brilliant sunshine hath fled, + +It is e'en so with me, for the eve of my day +Has arrived, yet I scarcely know how; +Bright morn hath departed, and noon passed away, +And 'tis evening, _pale_ eve with me now. + +Oh! where are the friends who in life's early morn, +With me did their journey commence; +Some are estranged, while some few still remain, +And others departed long since. + +And when I too, like them, shall be summoned away, +And the shadows of death on me fall, +Be thou the Great Shepherd of Israel but near, +My Saviour, my God, and my all. + +And though the "dark valley" we all must pass through, +Yet surely no evil can harm +The _sheep_, when the Shepherd is walking there too, +And supports them by his mighty arm. + +Oh! my Redeemer, wilt thou be with me then, +And food for my journey provide, +Divide the dark waters of Jordan again, +And safe in thy bosom me hide. + +Though wild beasts of the desert may roar long and loud, +And the billows of ocean rise high, +With thy rod and thy staff for my strength and support, +I shall pass them in safety all by. + +And having crossed Jordan, on Canaan's bright shore +With what joy shall I take a survey, +And reflect that the dangers of life are all o'er, +And with unclouded vision enjoy evermore +The bright sun of an endless day. + +Weston, Feb. 4, 1852. + + + + +AN ACROSTIC. + + +Merry, merry little child, +Active, playful, sometimes wild; +Rosy cheeks, and ringlets rare, +Glossy black, with eyes compare. +_All, all_ these belong to thee, +Right pleasant little Margerie. +Every good, dear child, be given +Thee on earth, and rest in heaven. +But who thy future lot can see? +All, _every_ page is hid from me; +Xtended through eternity, +Thy life so late begun will be. +Earnest seek to know the truth, +Remember God in early youth; +When in his sacred courts thou art, +Engage in worship thy _whole heart_; +Listen to what the preacher says, +Listen to prayers, and list to praise, +In nothing see thou dost offend, +Nor fail the Sabbath _well_ to spend. +Give to thy parents honor due, +Thy sisters love, and brothers too; +Oh! good and happy mayst thou be, +Now and ever, Margerie. + + + + +AN ACROSTIC. + + +Cannot happiness perfect be found on this earth? +How absurd to expect it--sin comes with our birth. +As soon from spring bitter, sweet water procure, +Rich clusters of grapes from the thorn; +Look for figs upon thistles, when seeking for food, +Or bread from the cold flinty stone. +The wealth of the Indies, _true_ peace can't bestow, +The Crown Royal oft presses an aching brow, +E'en in laughter there's madness--mirth coupled with woe. + +As true peace in this world, then, can never be found, +Until deep in the heart Christian graces abound, +Give diligent heed to the keeping thy heart; +Unwearied in effort, repel every dart +So dextrously pointed by Satan's black art. +True peace is from Heaven--a child of the skies, +And feeble exertions secure not the prize. + +Never falter in duty, but trust in that power +Engaged to support you in each trying hour; +When sinking like Peter amidst the dark wave, +Ever look unto Jesus, almighty to save. +Look _to_ him, live _like_ him, be strong in his might, +Lay thy _burden_ on him, and thy _cross_ he'll make light. + + + + +WRITTEN UPON RECEIVING A NEW YEAR'S GIFT. + + +I have a little Grandchild dear, +Who sends to me on each new year + A valuable present: +Not costly gift from store-house bought, +But one that her own hands have wrought, + Therefore to me more pleasant. + +Accept, dear child, the wish sincere, +For you much happiness this year, + And length of days be given; +Here may you act well your part, +Serving the Lord with all your heart, + And find your rest in heaven. + +Jan. 1852. + + + + +LINES + +TO THE MEMORY OF PATRICK KELLEY, WHO BY HIS MANY GOOD QUALITIES DURING +SOME YEARS' RESIDENCE IN MY FAMILY, GREATLY ENDEARED HIMSELF TO ME AND +MINE. + + +From Erin's fair Isle to this country he came, +And found brothers and sisters to welcome him here; +Though then but a youth, yet robust seemed his frame, +And life promised fair for many a long year. + +A place was soon found where around the same board, +He with two of his sisters did constantly meet; +And when his day's work had all been performed, +At the _same_ fireside he found a third seat. + +His faithfulness such, so true-hearted was he, +That love in return could not be denied; +_As one of the family_--he soon ceased to be +The stranger, who lately for work had applied. + +Youth passed into manhood, and with it there came +New duties to fill, new plans to pursue; +But a fatal disease now seizes his frame, +And with health is his strength fast leaving him too. + +From his home in the country to the city he went, +Where kind brothers procured him good medical aid; +But all was in vain--Death commissioned was sent, +And soon his remains in the cold grave were laid. + +The broad waves of Atlantic lie rolling between +His brothers and sisters and parents on earth; +And never by parents may those children be seen, +Or the latter revisit the land of their birth. + +But sooner or later they all must be borne +To that region of darkness from whence none return; +Oh! then may they meet on Canaan's bright shore, +An _unbroken household_ to part nevermore. + +Weston, Jan. 1852. + + + + +MY S.S. CLASS. + + +I now will endeavor, while fresh in my mind, +My Sabbath School Class to portray; +The theme's furnished for me, I've only to find +Colors to blend, their forms to display. + +And first on the canvass we'll Adeline place, +With her full and expressive dark eye; +Decision of purpose is stamped on that face, +And good scholarship too we descry. + +Next in order comes Alice, with bright sunny smile, +That does one's heart good to behold; +May the sorrows of life ne'er that young spirit blight, +Nor that heart be less cheerful when old. + +But who's this that we see, with that mild pensive air, +And a look so expressively kind? +It is Ann, gentle Ann, before whom we pass by, +We will add--'t would be useless in any to try +Disposition more lovely to find. + +The next is a bright noble face we espy, +'Tis a boy of ten years we shall find; +There's a spice of the rogue in that merry young eye, +With good sense and good nature combined. + +It's young master Alpheus--we never have found +One more punctual at school hour than he; +He's now but a lad, yet who knows when a _man_, +But a _Judge in our land_ he may be. + +Next comes little Moggy, our dear little Moggy, +But before she is brought out to view, +We'll new colors select, add fresh tints to the whole, +And spread all on our pallet anew. + +And now she appears in her own proper size, +Her cheeks colored by nature's warm glow; +With her full lustrous and speaking black eyes, +And rich ringlets that grace her young brow. + +Walter's the last on the painting we see, +Little Walter, the youngest of all; +Look! he's repeating his lesson just now, +Mark the expression on that infant brow, +He's a _wonder_, for scholar so small. + +But there's one in this grouping we look for in vain, +Whose image we often recall; +How mournfully sweet is the sound of thy name, +Dear Elbridge, the loved one of all. + +Thou wert called in the freshness of morning away, +By him who all things doeth well; +The rest for brief periods are suffered to stay, +How long, we may none of us tell. + +May the Holy Book studied in this Sabbath School, +Be more precious than silver or gold; +Be its doctrines received, and its precepts obeyed, +And _rich treasures_ it still will unfold. + +And when one by one we shall all pass away, +To me, oh! my Father, be given +The joy that no heart upon earth can conceive, +To meet all in the kingdom of Heaven. + +Weston, Feb. 17, 1852. + + + + +FOR MY GRANDSONS, EDDY AND ALLY. + + +I here engage +Upon this page + A picture to portray, +Of two of an age +Yet neither a sage, + But right honest hearts have they. +Each loves to play +And have his own way, +Yet I'm happy to say + They quarrel, if ever, but seldom. +Though competent quite +To maintain their own right, +And even to fight, + Yet peace to their bosom is welcome. +Both go to school, +And learn by rule + That in neither a dunce we may find; +Both read and spell +And like it well; + Thus with pleasure is profit combined. +One's eyes are black, +The other's blue; + They both have honest hearts and true, + And love each other dearly: +One's father, is brother +To the other one's mother, + So cousins german are they most clearly; +Each has a father, +And each has a mother, + And both do dearly love him; +But neither a sister, +And neither a brother, + To _play_ with, or to _plague_ him. +And here I propose, +Ere I come to a close, + A little advice to give; +To which if they heed, +They'll be better indeed, + And happier as long as they live. +Be sure to mind +Your parents kind, + And do nothing to vex or tease them; +But through each day +Heed what they say, + And strive to obey and please them. +Take not in vain +God's holy name, +Do not work, +Do not play +On God's holy day, + Nor from church stay away; +Always bear it in mind +To be gentle and kind, +And friends you will find, +And hearts to you bind, + I am sure I may venture to say. +And when you're men, +Who sees you then + I hope in you models will see, +Of _good_ and _great_, +In _Church_ and _State_, + Whose lips with your lives agree. + +Weston, Feb. 1852. + + + + +FOR MY GRAND-DAUGHTERS, M. AND L.--AN ACROSTIC. + + +Mary and Lily--how sweet are those names, +Allied as they are to my heart and my home; +Recalling with freshness the days that are past, +Yielding buds of sweet promise for days yet to come. + +Links are these names to the chain that hath bound +In fetters my heart, to which still they lay claim; +Loved ones and lovely, still close by me found, +Years past, and time present, whose names are the same. + +Enshrined in this bosom, is living one now, +Still youthful and truthful, and talented too, +Though years have elapsed since she passed from our view; +E'en in Summer midst roses in beauty and bloom, +She faded away, and was borne to the tomb. + +Weston, March 5, 1852. + + + + +FOR MY FRIEND MRS. R. + + +When writing to you, friend, a subject I'd find +In which there's both pleasure and profit combined, +And though what I've chosen may pain in review, +Yet still there's strange mingling of pleasure there too. +Then let us go back many years that are past, +And glance at those days _much too happy to last_. +I have seen thee, my friend, when around thy bright hearth +Not a seat was found vacant, but gladness and mirth +Kept high holiday there, and many a time +Were mingled in pastime my children with thine. +I've looked in again, the destroyer had come, +And changed the whole aspect of that happy home. +He entered that dwelling, and rudely he tore +From the arms of his mother, her most cherished flower. +Thy heart seemed then broken, oh! how couldst thou bear +To live in this world, and thy idol not here? +Oh! heart-stricken mother, thou didst not then know +All the bitter ingredients in thy cup of woe. +The hand of thy father that cup had prepared, +Each drop needful for thee, not one could be spared. +Ere thy first wound had healed, while bleeding and sore, +Death entered again, and a fair daughter bore +From home of her childhood, to return never more. +How painful the shock, for in striking that blow +A child, parent, sister, and wife was laid low. +Thy strength seemed unequal that shock to sustain, +But death was not satiate, he soon called again, +And tears and entreaties were powerless to save +Another dear daughter from death and the grave. +Like a fair lily when droops its young head, +With little of suffering her mild spirit fled. +She was thy namesake, to her young friends most dear; +So many thy trials, so heavy to bear, +It seemed that much longer thou couldst not survive; +_How much can the human heart bear and yet live_. +Up to this time there had always been one +Who shared in thy trials and made them his own; +Many years his strong arm had support been to thee, +The friend of thy youth, thy kind husband was he. +He's ever been with thee in weal and in woe, +But the time's just at hand when he too must go. +The bolt fell not single, it pierced the slight form +Of a child, too fragile to weather the storm; +The summons that took her dear father away +Seemed her young heart to break, she could not here stay, +And now in deep slumber they side by side lay. +I have felt, my dear friend, as I've witnessed thy grief, +How inadequate language to give thee relief; +And that _real relief_ could never be found +Except from the hand that inflicted the wound. +In the furnace of fire thou wert not alone, +For walking beside thee had ever been one, +The kindest of friends, though thou could'st not him see, +For the scales on thine eyes weighed them down heavily. +Those scales have now fallen; look up, thou canst see +That look of compassion, it's fixed upon thee. +Raise thine eyes once again, see that head crowned with thorns; +In those feet, hands, and side, see the deep bleeding wounds. +You now know full well why such suffering was borne, +'Twas for thee, and for me, and for every one +Who trusts in his merits and on him alone. +Thy day is just passed, 'tis now evening with thee, +But the faith of the Christian is given to see +The star of bright promise, amid the dark gloom +Which shall light all thy footsteps and gild the lone tomb; +And at the last day mayst thou and thine stand +An _unbroken household_ at Jesus' right hand. + +March 27, 1852. + + + + +FOR MY NIECE ANGELINE. + + +In the morning of life, when all things appear bright, +And far in the distance the shadows of night, +With kind parents still spared thee, and health to enjoy, +What period more fitting thy powers to employ +In the service of him, who his own life has given +To procure thee a crown and a mansion in Heaven. +As a dream that is gone at the breaking of day, +And a tale that's soon told, so our years pass away. +"Then count that day lost, whose low setting sun +Can see from thy hand no worthy act done." +Midst the roses of life many thorns thou wilt find, +"But the cloud that is darkest, with silver is lined." +As the children of Israel were led on their way +By the bright cloud at night, and the dark cloud by day, +So the Christian is led through the straight narrow road +That brings him direct to his home and his God; +And when the last stage of life's journey is o'er, +And Jordan's dark waves can affright him no more, +When safely arrived in his own promised land, +He's permitted with Saints and with Angels to stand, +Then weighed in the balance how light will appear +All the sorrows of life, with his blissful state there. +Oh! let us by faith take a view of him now, +See the crown of bright jewels encircling his brow; +His old tattered robe swept away by the flood, +Is replaced by a new one, the gift of his Lord; +The hand of his Saviour that garment hath wrought, +It is pure stainless white, free from wrinkle and spot. +The streets that he walks in are paved with gold, +And yet it's transparent as glass we are told; +The pure river of water of life is in view, +And for healing the nations, the tree of life too. +There's no need of a candle or sun there, for night +Is excluded forever--the Lord God is their light. +But here we will stop, for no tongue can declare, +No heart may conceive what the Saints enjoy there. +And these joys may be ours--oh! how blissful the thought, +Ours without money, without price may be bought. +For us they've been purchased by the Son of God, +At an infinite price--_his own precious blood_. +They wait our acceptance, may be ours if we choose, +'Tis _life_ to accept them,--'tis _death_ to refuse. + +Weston, May 15, 1862. + + + + +AN ACROSTIC. + + +Ah! what is this life? It's a dream, is the reply; +Like a dream that's soon ended, so life passes by. +Pursue the thought further, still there's likeness in each, +How constant our aim is at what we can't reach. +E'en so in a dream, we've some object in view +Unceasingly aimed at, but the thing we pursue +Still eludes our fond grasp, and yet lures us on too. + +How analagous this to our waking day hours, +Unwearied our efforts, we tax all our powers; +Betimes in the morning the prize we pursue, +By the pale lamp of midnight we're seeking it too; +At all times and seasons, this _same fancied good_ +Repels our advances, yet still is pursued, +Depriving us oft, of rest needful, and food. +But there's a pearl of great price, whose worth is untold, +It can never he purchased with silver or gold; +Great peace it confers upon all to whom given, +Ever cheering their pathway, and pointing to heaven. +Look not to this world for a prize of such worth, +Or hope _that_ to obtain from this perishing earth +Whose essence is spiritual, and heavenly its birth. + +Weston, June 6, 1862. + + + + +ACROSTIC. + + +Even now I seem to see thee, +Lovely boy, with thy sweet smile, +Bright and beautiful as when +Reading that holy book, the while +I listened to thee, little dreaming, +Docile, gentle, pleasant child, +God who gave, _so soon would take thee_, +Even thee, so _sweet_, so _mild_. +But how merciful in chastening +Our father is--oh! bless his name-- +Your little face was decked with smiles, +Dear child, just when the summons came. +Escaped from lingering sickness, thou hadst +Nought to mar thy little frame. +While ye mourn the dear departed, +Each bitter feeling disallow; +Look to heaven, ye broken hearted, +Look, and with submission bow. +In thy hour of deepest sorrow, +Never murmur, dare not blame; +God, who wounds, alone can heal thee; +Trust his power and praise his name. +Oh! may we say, _each_, every one, +"Not my will, but thine be done." + + + + +SHE SLUMBERS STILL. + + +On a midsummer's eve she lay down to sleep, +Wearied and toil-worn the maiden was then; +How deep was that slumber, how quiet that rest, +'Twas the sleep from which no one awakens again. + +Morn returned in its freshness, and flowers that she loved +In beauty and fragrance were blooming around; +The birds caroled sweetly the whole live-long day, +But that strange mystic sleep all her senses had bound. + +Day followed day until summer was gone, +And autumn still found her alone and asleep; +Stern winter soon followed, but its loud blasts and shrill, +Were powerless to rouse her from slumber so deep. + +Again spring returns, and all nature revives, +And birds fill the groves with their music again; +But the eyes and the ears of that loved one are closed, +And on her these rich treasures are lavished in vain. + +Unheeded by her the winter snow falls, +Its beautiful garment spring puts on in vain; +Many _summers_ the birds her sad requiem have sung, +But to sound of sweet music she'll ne'er wake again. + +There is _but one voice_ that deep slumber can break, +'Tis the same one that loudly called, "Lazarus, come forth!" +At the sound of that voice all the dead shall arise, +And before God shall stand all the nations on earth. + +Then shall this dear one, our first born, awake, +Her mortal put on immortality then; +And oh! blissful thought, that we once more may meet +In that home where's no parting, death, sorrow, or pain. + +Weston, May 29, 1852. + + + + +TO A FRIEND IN THE CITY, + +FROM HER FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY. + + +By especial request I take up my pen, +To write a few lines to my dear Mrs. N.; +And though nothing of depth she has right to expect; +Yet the _will_ for the _deed_ she will not reject +The task, on reflection, is a heavy one quite, +As here in the country we've no news to write; +For what is to _us_ very _new_, rich, and rare, +To you in the city is stale and thread bare. +Should I write of Hungary, Kossuth, or the Swede, +They are all out of date, antiquated indeed. +I might ask you with me the New Forest to roam, +But it's stript of its foliage, quite leafless become; +N.P. Willis and rival have each had their day, +And of rappings and knockings there's nought new to say. +Yet do not mistake me, or think I would choose, +A home in the city, the country to lose; +The music of birds, with rich fruits and sweet flowers, +We all in the country lay claim to as ours. +A bird that's imprisoned, I hate to hear sing, +Let me catch its glad note as it soars on the wing; +Its carol so sweet as it's floating along, +It seems the Creator to praise in its song. +With the sweetest of poets I often exclaim, +"God made the country,"--let the pride of man claim +The town with its buildings, its spires, and its domes, +But leave us in the country our sweet quiet homes. +The scenery around us is lovely to view, +It charmed when a _child_, and at three-score charms too. +Then leave me the country with its birds, fruits, and flowers, +And the _town_, with its pleasures and crowds, may be yours. +E'en in winter the country has right to the claim +Of charms equal to summer; to be sure, not the same. +See winter, stern monarch, as borne on the gale, +He comes armed _cap-a-pie_ in his white coat of mail; +Behold what a change he hath wrought in _one_ night, +He has robed the whole country in _pure spotless white_. +He fails not to visit us once every year, +But finds us _prepared for him_--meets with good cheer, +And a most cordial welcome from all of us here. +When with us he's quite civil and very polite, +In manners most courtly, and dignified quite; +But I'm told were he goes unexpected he's rough, +Chills all by his presence, and savage enough. +_Hark, hear how it storms!_ blowing high and yet higher; +But then we've books, music, and a brilliant wood fire, +Where logs piled on logs give one warmth e'en to see; +Oh! these evenings in winter are charming to me. +In good keeping these logs are with wind and the hail, +Everything in the country is on a _grand scale_. +You have nought in the city I think can compare, +To the bright glowing hearth from a good _country_ fire. +To be sure, now and then, one is cheered by the sight +Of wood fire in the city, but when at its height +Compared to _our fires_, Lilliputianal quite. +But here I will stop, for I think it quite time +To have done with my boasting, and finish my rhyme. + +M.A.H.T. BIGELOW. +Weston, April 6, 1852. + +P.S. And now, my dear friend, it is certainly fair, + Your city advantages you should compare + With ours in the country, let me know what they are. + + + + +REPLY: + +WHICH I AM GRATEFUL FOR PERMISSION TO INSERT. + + +Dear Madam, +Many thanks for your missive so charming in verse, +So kind and descriptive, so friendly and terse; +It came opportune on a cold stormy day, +And scattered ennui and "blue devils" away; +For though in the city, where "all's on the go," +We often aver we feel only "so so," +And sigh for a change--then _here_ comes a letter! +What could I desire more welcome and better? +But how to reply? I'm lost in dismay, +I cannot in rhyme my feelings portray. +The _nine_ they discard me, I'm not of _their_ train, +They entreatingly beg, "I'll ne'er woo them again;" +But I'll brave their displeasure, and e'en write to _you_ +A few lines of doggrel, then rhyming adieu. +My errors do "wink at," for hosts you'll descry, +And spare all rebuff, and the keen critic's eye. +I appreciate all of your calm country life, +And feel you are happy as mother and wife; +Surrounded by taste, and _the friend_ so refined, +Who with sterling good sense, loves the delicate mind; +Who with _you_ can admire the "bird on the wing," +With _you_ welcome back the return of the spring; +Enjoying the promise of fruits and sweet flowers, +With music to cheer and beguile evening hours; +Then _long_, very long, may such hours be given-- +They whisper content, and the foretaste of heaven. +I was born in the city, the city's my home, +Yet oft in the country with pleasure I roam; +For _there_, I confess, the heart finds repose +In its pleasures and sorrows, which _here_ it ne'er knows. + +_There_ no fashion, no nonsense, intrude on your walk, +But rational moments of rational talk, +Asserting that soiries, with jewels and dress, +Make a very small part of life's happiness. +Ah! this I believe, most _sincerely_ I do, +And sympathize freely, most truly with you. +Now Kossuth is coming, pray what's to be done? +No pageant to welcome, to children no fun? +Some "turn a cold shoulder," and look with disdain, +Yet many there'll be who will follow his train. +He's "sure missed a figure," and "bit his own nose," +Ah, many the thorn he'll find 'mid life's rose. + +Then we've concerts, fine readings, museum and halls, +With disputes, and debates, in legislative halls, +Ethiopian Minstrels, Shakesperian plays; +And yet, my dear friend, I'm told in these days, +Religion's blessed joys are most faithfully felt, +With devotion's pure prayers the proud heart to melt; +That many have turned to the straight narrow road, +Which leadeth to peace and communion with God. +To _you_ this assurance a welcome will find, +A subject of vital concern to the mind. + +When hither you come, do enter our door, +I'll give you my hand, perhaps something more. +Let me urge, if inclined, to this you'll reply, +I'll again do my best, yes, surely I'll try; +The fair one who brings it ought sure to inspire +Some poetical lay from Genius' sweet lyre. +But Genius repels me, she "turns a deaf ear," +And frowns on me scornful, the year after year; +Perhaps if I sue, in the "sere yellow leaf," +She'll open her heart, and yield me relief. +But wayward my pen, I must now bid adieu, +My friendship, dear madam, I offer to you, +And beg with your friends, you'll please place my name, +The privilege grant me of doing the same. + +S. NICHOLSON. +Boston, April 16, 1862. + + + + +REJOINDER TO THE FOREGOING REPLY. + + +Many, many thanks my friend, +For those sweet verses thou didst send, + So good they were and witty; +And now I will confess to thee, +Mixed up with bad, much good I see + Within the crowded city. + +Boston, "with all thy faults I love +Thee still," though much I disapprove-- + See much in thee to blame; +Yet to be candid, I'll allow +Thy equal no one can me show + From Mexico to Maine. + +It is my boast, perhaps my pride, +To be to English blood allied, + Warm in my veins it's flowing; +And when I see the homage given +To foreign men and foreign _women_,[1] + _That blood with shame is glowing_. + +I hope when Kossuth fever's cool +And we have put our wits to school, + And sober senses found; +When the Hungarian's out of sight +And shattered brains collected quite, + We may be safe and sound. + +But what simpletons, should we choose, +With nought to gain and much to loose, + 'Gainst Austria to war; +What greater folly, when we know +By doing this, we'll get a blow + From the ambitious Czar. + +But you may not with me agree, +And I am getting warm I see, + So here I bid adieu +To Kossuth and to Hungary, +To Russia and to Germany, + And the great Emperor too. + +And now my friend a word I'd say +Before I throw my pen away, + On subject most important; +In doing this I need not fear +I shall offend the nicest ear, + Or strike a note discordant. + +Oh! had I true poetic fire, +With boldness would I strike the lyre + So loud that all might hear; +But ah! my harp is tuned so low, +Its feeble strains I full well know + Can reach no distant ear. + +Yet I rejoice that harps on high, +And voices of sweet harmony, + Are raised to bless the name +Of Him who sits upon the throne, +Rejoicing over souls new born, + Who soon will join with them, +Eternally His name to adore +Who died, yet lives forevermore. + +Weston, May 8, 1852. + + [1] By this I do not mean to include all foreigners, for some of + them I consider among the very best of our population, but + dancers, &c., &c. + + + + +TO MY FRIEND MR. J. ELLIS. + + +To thee, the guardian of my youthful days, +Fain would I pay some tribute of respect; +And though it falls far short of thy desert, +The _will_ to do thee justice thou'lt accept. + +As I recall the days of former years, +Thy many acts of kindness bring to mind, +Tears fill my eyes, in thee I've ever found +A friend most faithful, uniformly kind. + +Thou art the earliest friend of mine that's left-- +The rest have long departed, every one; +They've long years since the debt of nature paid, +But thou remainest still, and thou alone. + +The snow of four score winters thou has seen, +And life's long pilgrimage may soon be o'er; +Respected, loved, and happy hast thou been, +With ample means to relieve the suffering poor, +Thou ever hadst the will, as well as power. + +Temperate in habit, and of temper even, +Calm and unruffled as the peaceful lake, +To thee the satisfaction has been given +Much to enjoy, and others happy make. + +And when thy days on earth shall all be past, +And thou before the Saviour's bar appear, +Mayst thou be found clothed in his righteousness +And from his lips the joyful sentence hear-- + +"Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou +Hast over few things faithful been, and now +I'll make thee ruler over many things, +And place a crown of glory on thy brow." + +Such will be thy reward, my friend, and mine, +If trusting in Christ's merits, _not our own_, +We at the last great day in him be found; +_He_ is the ark of safety--_He alone_. + +Weston, April 24, 1852. + + + + +A PASTORAL. + + +Oh! tell me ye shepherds, tell me I pray, +Have you seen the fair Jessie pass by this way? +You ne'er could forget her, if once you had seen, +She's fair as the morning, she moves like a Queen. + +My sheep are neglected, my crook's thrown aside, +In pursuit of dear Jessie, sweet Jessie, my bride; +I hear nothing of her, no tidings can glean, +To _see_ is to _know_ her, she moves like a Queen. + +Say, have you seen her? oh, pity my grief! +Speak _quick_, and impart me the needful relief; +You cannot forget her, if once you have seen, +She's lovely as Venus, she moves like a Queen. + +Have you not seen her?--then listen I pray, +Oh! listen to what a poor shepherd can say +In the praise of one ne'er so lovely was seen; +She's youthful as Hebe, she moves like a Queen. + +She's fair as the Spring in the mild month of May, +She's brilliant as June decked in flowerets so gay; +You ne'er could forget her if once you had seen, +She's charming as Flora, she moves like a Queen. + +Oh! tell me not Damon, that yours can compare +To Jessie, sweet Jessie, with beauty so rare; +With a face of such sweetness, so modest a mien, +She's like morn in its freshness, she moves like a Queen. + +You tell me your Sylvia is beautiful quite; +She may be, when Jessie is kept out of sight; +She is not to be mentioned with Jessie, I ween, +Her voice is sweet music, she moves like a Queen. + +Then name not your Sylvia with Jessie I pray, +'Tis comparing dark night with the fair light of day; +Sylvia's movements are clumsy, and awkwardly seen, +But Jessie is graceful, she moves like a Queen. + +Menalaus' fair wife, for beauty far famed, +By the side of my Jessie is not to be named; +Paris ne'er had woo'd Helen, if Jessie he'd seen, +She's chaste as Diana, she moves like a Queen. + +Oh! aid me, do aid me, ye shepherds, I pray! +The time is fast flying, no longer I'll stay; +You cannot mistake her, there's none like her seen, +She's lovely as Venus, she moves like a Queen. + +Do help me to find her, I'm wild with affright, +The day passes swiftly, it soon will be night; +There's none to compare with her, none like her seen, +_More_ lovely than Venus, she moves like a Queen. + + + + +THE JESSAMINE. + +EDDIE TO JESSIE. + + +There are many flowers famous for fragrance and hue, +Sweet Roses and Lilies, Geraniums too; +And though decked in gay colors they look very fine, +They are not to my fancy like _sweet Jessie mine_. + + + + +FOR THE S.S. CONCERT, + +IN THE WAYLAND ORTHODOX CHURCH. + + +Feed my lambs! the Saviour said, +Near two thousand years ago; +If we truly love the Lord, +By obedience, love we'll show. + +What was said to Peter then, +In that distant age and clime, +Sure is binding on us now, +Here and to the end of time. + +If our Shepherd then we love, +His commandments we'll obey; +Let us true disciples prove, +Feed his lambs as best we may. + +Twice twelve years have passed this day,[2] +Since our Sabbath School commenced; +Countless lessons have been learned, +Much instruction been dispensed. + +Let us up and doing be, +Sow the seed all times and hours; +Cast our bread on water even, +Tax with vigor all our powers. + +May the teachers now engaged, +Courage take, and persevere; +They'll not fail of their reward, +Though they may not meet it here. + +God is faithful, who hath said, +(Let the thought allay your fears,) +"They with joy shall surely reap, +Who have sown in prayers and tears." + +Then sow the seed with prayers and tears; +Never doubt, but faithful be; +Though thou reapest not for years, +A rich harvest thou wilt see. + +Happy faces now we miss, +Who were wont these seats to fill; +Loved and lovely passed away, +Yet they're fresh in memory still. + +Soon their earthly race was run, +In the morning called away; +Others soon may follow them, +May all hear the Saviour say, + +"Well done, faithful servant; thou +Hast o'er few things faithful been, +I will make the ruler now +Over many--enter in." + + [2] June 13, 1852. + + + + +FEED MY LAMBS. + + +Just before the bright cloud the Saviour received, +When about to return to his father in Heaven; +His mission accomplished, his work on earth done, +'Twas then that this parting injunction was given: + +"Feed my lambs!" this was said to one of the twelve, +Whom he called to be with him while sojourning here; +"Feed my lambs!" Oh, what love was evinced by those words, +What tender compassion, what fatherly care. + +Three times at this meeting the question was asked, +"Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?" +And though grieved, yet how truly could Peter reply, +"Lord thou knowest all things, thou know'st I love thee." + +Thrice this same Peter his Lord had denied, +And had he not reason reproaches to fear? +Oh, no! for his Saviour had all this forgiven, +He saw his repentance, he knew it sincere. + +That disciple soon followed his Lord whom he loved, +And many long ages have since passed away; +But the parting command still remains in full force, +And will ever remain so till time's latest day. + +Many wolves in sheep's clothing are still to be found, +Whom Satan fails not to instruct and employ; +They enter the fold, and with most specious wiles, +Seek the young of the flock to ensnare and destroy. + +And shall we dare call ourselves followers of Christ, +And yet his known precepts presume to evade? +Ah! stop and reflect, what's the test that's required? +"If ye love me, keep my commandments," he said. + +June 26, 1852. + + + + +"GOD IS LOVE." + + +Come blest Spirit from above, +Come and fill my heart with love; +Love to God, and love to man, +Love to do the good I can; +Love to high, and love to low, +Love to friend, and love to foe. +Love to rich, and love to poor, +Love to beggar at my door. +Love to young, and love to old, +Love to hardened heart and cold. +Love, true love, my heart within +For the sinner, _not the sin_; +Love to holy Sabbath day, +Love to meditate and pray, +Love for love, for _hatred_ even; +_Love like this, is born of Heaven_. + + + + +TO MY FRIEND MRS. LLOYD + + +My very dear friend +Should never depend +Upon anything clever or witty, +From a poor country wight +When attempting to write, +To one in your far famous city. +Indeed I'm inclined, +To fear that you'll find +These lines heavy, and quite out of joint; +And now I declare, +It's no more than fair, +Should this prove a dull letter, +That you write me a better; +And something that's quite to the point. +This having premised +As at present advised, +I'll indulge in the thoughts that incline, +Not with curious eye +The dim future to spy, +But glance backward to "Auld Lang Syne." +If I recollect right, +It was a cold day quite, +And not far from night +When _the Boarding School famous_ I entered. +Now what could I do? +Scarce above my own shoe +Did I dare take a view, +Or to speak, or e'en move hardly ventured. +At this school I remained +Till supposed to have gained +Education quite good and sufficient; +But one in those days, +Thought deserving of praise, +Would in these, be deemed very deficient. +And here we will try +Before the mind's eye, +To bring forward a few of that household; +There were the witty, +Also the pretty, +But some very plain, +Not a few very vain, +And among them the phlegmatic and cold. +Though it seems out of place +I will here find a space +For some few in the lower apartment; +Sure this must be right, +They contributed quite +To our comfort, in their humble department. +Here's Lydia and Polly, +And Peter the jolly, +With teeth white as ivory +And cheeks black as ebony, +So from Africa doubtless was he; +But we'll ascend from below, +And see entering just now +With a Parisian bow +And all in a glow +Gay Monsieur Pichon, +And French teacher Faucon; +Also V----, the Musician, +And B----, Mathematician. +Monsieur Laboltierre, +So brisk and debonnair +Had also been there; +And there's Eggleston fair, +With whom none might compare. +Miss W----, romantic, +Miss F----, transatlantic, +And of others a score you might see. +But here I propose +The long list to close, +With addition of only one name; +Amidst the gay throng +Was one lovely and young, +Who brought sunshine wherever she came. +She had light brown hair, +Was graceful and fair, +Of children many +Youngest of any, +And Margaret this maiden they call; +A sweet smile she had +That round her lips played, +And with eyes bright and blue +She'd a heart warm and true +And disposition affectionate withal. +One advantage she'll allow +That I have over her now, +The same in our youthful days, when +On our studies intent +Over school desk we bent, +Her Senior I always have been. +How like to a dream +Do those days to me seem, +When with others preparing to enter +On the world's great stage, +And with light heart engage +Our part in the drama to venture. +Of that school there's not one +Except thee alone, +Whom now living as friend I can claim; +Some have departed, +Some are false hearted, +And their friendship exists but in name. +But that friendship's long lived +That forty years has survived, +And may we not hope 'twill endure, +When in flames of fire +This earth will expire, +And old time shall itself be no more. + +July 12, 1852. + + + + +ESCAPE OF THE ISRAELITES, + +AND DESTRUCTION OF PHARAOH. + + +Ah! short-sighted monarch, dost thou think to pursue +The Israel of God, and recapture them too? +Hast thou so soon forgotten the plagues on thee sent, +Or so hardened thy heart that thou can'st not relent? +Then make ready thy chariots, a long way they'll reach; +Thou hast six hundred chosen, a captain to each. +Now after them _hasten_, no time's to be lost, +That God worketh for them, thou'st felt to thy cost. +_Speed thee then, speed thee_, thou'lt soon them o'ertake, +Thou hast so overtasked them they're powerless and weak. +Ah! weak and defenceless they truly appear, +But the Lord is their rock, they're his special care. +See that pillar that's leading them all on their way, +It's a bright cloud by night and a dark cloud by day; +And now by the Red Sea behold they encamp, +But _hark_! what's that sound, it's the war horse's tramp. +Look up, see thy enemy close by thee now, +The sea lies before thee, ah! what canst thou do? +Moses bids them go forward at God's command, +When the waters divide, and they walk on dry land; +And the cloud that to Egypt is darkness all night, +To the children of Israel, is a bright shining light. +And now have the Hebrews all safely passed through +The Red Sea, which Pharaoh assaying to do +Is destroyed with his host, every one of them drowned, +Not a man saved alive, not a _single man found_ +To return to lone Egypt, the sad news to bear +To the widows and orphans made desolate there. +But list! hear the rescued their glad voices raise, +And to timbrel and dance add the sweet song of praise, +For Pharaoh hath perished beneath the dark sea, +And the long enslaved Hebrews are happy and free. + +July 14, 1852. + + + + +HYMN, + +SUNG AT THE ORDINATION OF THE REV. HENRY ALLEN. + + +We meet to-day as ne'er before, +To greet a pastor of our choice, +Without a single jarring note, +And without one dissenting voice. + +Oh thou who art enthroned on high, +Before whom holy angels bow, +Be pleased to hear us when we sing, +Accept the praises offered now. + +Let no one present, dare to give, +The service of the lip alone; +Or think if they the heart withhold, +'Twill find acceptance at thy throne. + +But with united heart and voice, +A grateful tribute we would raise; +Oh bless us all assembled now, +Help us to pray, and help to praise. + +Thou great Immanuel, who didst lead +Thy Israel all the desert through; +Like them we're weak and helpless quite, +Oh! condescend to lead _us_ too. + +And when our Shepherd with his flock +Before thy throne shall re-appear, +May every one acceptance find, +And ceaseless praises offer there. + +Sept. 1852. + + + + +MARGARET'S REMEMBRANCE OF LIGHTFOOT. + + +My beautiful steed, +'Tis painful indeed +To think we are parted forever; +That on no sunny day, +With light spirits and gay, +Over hills far away, +We shall joyously travel together. + +Thy soft glossy mane +I shall ne'er see again, +Nor thy proudly arched neck 'gain behold; +Nor admire _that_ in thee, +Which so seldom we see, +A kind, gentle spirit, yet bold. +Thou wert pleasant indeed +My darling grey steed, +"In my mind's eye" thou'rt beautiful still; +For when thou wert old +Thy heart grew not cold, +Its warm current time never could chill. + +Not a stone marks the spot +Where they laid thee, Lightfoot, +And no fence to enclose thee around; +But what if there's not, +_Deep engraved on my heart_ +Thy loved image may ever be found. + + + + +"THE CLOUDS RETURN AFTER THE RAIN." + + +Dark and yet darker my day's clouded o'er; +Are its bright joys all fled, and its sunshine no more? +I look to the skies for the bright bow in vain, +For constantly "clouds return after the rain." + +Must it always be thus, peace banished forever, +And joy to this sad heart returned again never? +I long for the rest that I cannot obtain, +For the clouds, so much dreaded, return after rain. + +Is there not in this wide world one spot that is blessed +With exemption from suffering, where one may find rest; +Where sickness and sorrow no entranpe can gain, +And the clouds do not return after the rain? + +Ah! deceive not thyself by a vain hope like this, +Nor expect in this world to enjoy lasting peace: +But bow with submission to God's holy will, +For the hand that afflicts is thy kind Father's still. + +If my days are dark here, there are brighter above, +In those pure realms of light, peace, joy, and of love; +Where the air is all balm, and the skies ever fair, +And the river of life, clear as crystal flows there. + +There also, for healing the nations, are found +The leaves of the tree on which rich fruits abound; +There is no need of candle, for God is their light, +There never is darkness, for "_there_ is no night." + +Oh! may I there find, when this brief life is past, +By my Saviour prepared, a sweet home at last; +Where sin never enters, death, sorrow, nor care, +And clouds are not feared, for it never rains there. + +August 19, 1852. + + + + +THE NOCTURNAL VISIT. + + +Lo the curtains of night around Palestine fall, +And Jerusalem's streets into darkness are thrown; +The late-busy hum of men's voices is hushed, +And the city is clad in dark livery alone. + +But see through the dimness that half opened door, +And slowly emerging a figure behold; +A quick, furtive glance he has thrown all around, +For what is he thirsting, for blood, or for gold? + +Stealthily, fearfully, onward he moves, +So light are his footsteps you scarce hear their tread; +Yet no midnight robber, no murderer is he, +Then why dread recognition--of man why afraid? + +Let us follow his footsteps and learn where he goes; +And now at the door of a house see him stand; +But why wait so long ere admittance he seeks, +In attempting to knock, why trembles that hand? + +He has come to the fountain of light and of life, +Before whom ne'er suppliant sued humbly in vain; +He has come for the knowledge that alone maketh rich, +And without which we're poor, though the whole world we gain. + +He has come to learn wisdom of that lowly one, +Who spake as "never man spake" it was said; +And who, though so poor and despised among men, +Is the whole world's Sustainer, creation's great Head. + +But list to the words of the Saviour of men, +"Verily, verily I say unto thee, +That no man, except he be born again, +Is permitted the kingdom of heaven to see." + +How humbling to pride were these words of our Lord, +What fears in his guest they serve to awaken; +Though a ruler of Jews, he was yet in his sins; +The first step towards heaven he never had taken. + +Ah! Nicodemus, how many like thee, +Would perceive all their boasted religion was vain, +Could they meet but his glance who "searcheth the heart, +And trieth the reins of the children of men." + +Sept. 9, 1852. + + + + +SOVEREIGNTY OF GOD AND FREE AGENCY OF MAN. + + +Thou art a perfect Sovereign, oh my God! +And I rejoice to think that thou art so; +That all events are under thy control, +And that thou knowest all I think and do. +But some may ask, "then why am I to blame +Because I sin, if God hath made me thus?" +Stop, stop, my friend, God tempteth not to sin, +Thou dost it of thy own free will and choice. +Though God is Sovereign, we free agents are, +Accountable to him for all we do, +Feel, think, or say; and at the last great day, +A most exact account must render too. +With this conclusion be thou satisfied-- +_For all who will accept him, Christ hath died_. + +Sept. 19, 1862. + + * * * * * + +God is a Sovereign, man free agent too; +How these to reconcile I do not know: +But _this_ I know, if _lost_, the blame is _mine_, +If saved, the _praise_, oh God! be _only thine_. + + + + +AUTUMN AND SUNSET. + + +Hail, sober Autumn! thee I love, +Thy healthful breeze and clear blue sky; +And _more_ than flowers of Spring admire +Thy falling leaves of richer dye. + +'Twas even thus when life was young, +I welcomed Autumn with delight; +Although I knew that with it came +The shorter day and lengthened night. + +Let others pass October by, +Or dreary call its hours, or chill; +Let poets always sing of Spring, +My praise shall be of Autumn still. + +And I have loved the setting sun, +E'en than his rising beams more dear; +'Tis fitting time for serious thought, +It is an hour for solemn prayer. + +Before the evening closes in, +Or night's dark curtains round us fall, +See how o'er tree, and spire, and hill, +That setting sun illumines all. + +So when my earthly race is run, +When called to bid this world adieu, +Like yonder cloudless orb I see, +May _my_ sun set in glory too. + +Oct 8, 1852. + + + + +"MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND." + + +My times are in thy hand, my God! +And I rejoice that they are so; +My times are in thy hand, my God, +Whether it be for weal or woe. + +My times are in thy hand, I know; +And if I'm washed in Jesus' blood, +Though dark my pathway here below, +It leads directly up to God. + +Since all thy children chastening need, +And all _so called_ must feel the rod, +Why for exemption should I plead, +For am I not thy child, my God? + +Ah why go mourning all the day, +Or why should I from trials shrink? +Though much of sorrow's in my cup, +The cup that I am called to drink. + +'Tis needful medicine I know, +By the most skilful hand prepared, +Strictly proportioned to my wants, +There's _not a drop_ that can be spared. + +Then why desponding, oh my soul, +Because of trials here below? +They're all appointed by my God, +My times are in thy hand, I know. + +Jan. 18, 1863. + + + + +NOVEMBER. + + +Remember the poor, in the dark chilly day, +When November's loud winds are fierce blowing; +Remember the poor, at thy plentiful board, +When the fire on thy bright hearth is glowing. + +Remember the poor in yon damp dismal shed, +Without food, fire, or clothing to warm them; +And not like the Priest or the Levite pass by, +But Samaritan like stop and cheer them. + +Remember the slave, the poor down trodden slave, +And do all in thy power to relieve him; +And when from oppression he strives to be free, +Do thou open thy gate to receive him. + +For what saith the Lord is thy duty to such, +"To his master thou shalt not return him,"[3] +But give him a home near thy own if he likes, +And be sure not to vex or oppress him. + +When parents or children or brethren you meet, +In our happy New England and free, +Then remember the slave, the heart broken slave, +For thy brother, _thy brother_ is he. + +Remember him also when prayer for thyself, +In affliction's dark hour doth ascend; +And when crying to God the father of all, +Let _his_ wants with _thine own_ kindly blend. + +And at the last day, when the rich and the poor +Shall alike by the _Judge_ be regarded; +When master and slave shall appear before God, +And a sentence impartial awarded,-- + +The cup of cold water He will not forget, +But with other good acts bring to mind; +"When naked ye clothed me, when hungry ye fed," +Will be uttered in accents most kind. + +But when, blessed Saviour, ah when was the time, +That we fed, clothed, or visited thee? +"Such acts," He replies, "to my poor brethren done, +I consider as done unto me." + +Nov. 1862. + + [3] See Deuteronomy, 23:15, 16. + + + + +WINTER. + + +His thundering car +Is heard from afar, +And his trumpet notes sound +All the country around; +Stop your ears as you will, +That loud blast and shrill +Is heard by you still. +Borne along by the gale, +In his frost coat of mail, +Midst snow, sleet, and hail, +He comes without fail, +And drives all before him, +Though men beg and implore him +Just to let them take breath, +Or he'll drive them to death. +But he comes in great state, +And for none will he wait, +Though he sees their distress +Yet he spares them no less, +For the cold stiff limb +Is nothing to him; +And o'er countless blue noses, +His hard heart he closes. +His own children fear him +And dare not come near him; +E'en his favorite child[4] +Has been known to run wild +At his too near approach, +Her fear of him such, +And to shriek and to howl +And return scowl for scowl. +Indeed few dare him face, +And _all_ shun his embrace; +For though pleasant his smile, +Yet one thinks all the while +Of that terrible frown, +Which the hardiest clown, +Though a stout hearted man, +Will avoid if he can. +And though many maintain +That he gives needless pain, +I confess I admire +This venerable sire. +True his language is harsh, +And his conduct oft rash, +And we know well enough, +That his manners are rough; +Yet still in the main, +We've no right to complain, +For if we prepare for him, +And show that we care for him, +We may in him find +A true friend and kind. +With us he will stay +Three months to a day, +So let us prepare +The snug elbow chair, +Which placed by the fire +For the hoary-head sire, +May comfort impart +And cheer his old heart. +Though he seems so unkind, +Yet always you'll find +That his cold heart will warm, +And he'll do you no harm +If your _own_ can but _feel_ +For your poor neighbor's weal; +And with pity o'erflowing, +Your free alms bestowing, +Never closing your door +On the suffering poor; +But clothe, feed, and warm them, +And see that none harm them. +_E'en to others just do_ +As you'd wish them by you. +Let's adopt but this plan, +To do good when we can, +And the dark stormy day +Will full quick pass away, +And we never complain +Of cold weather again, +Or of tedious long hours, +That are spent within doors; +For when winter winds blow, +And we're hedged up by snow, +We shall find full employment, +And lack no enjoyment. +Thus prepared, let him come, +He will find us at home; +Bring wind, hail, or snow, +Blow high, or blow low, +We're prepared for him now. +Then come winter, come, +You'll find us at home. + +Nov. 5, 1852. + + [4] Spring. + + + + +There is within this heart of mine, +An aching void earth ne'er can fill; +I've tried its joys, its friendships proved, +But felt that aching void there _still_. + +Thy love alone, my Saviour God, +True satisfaction can impart; +Can fill this aching void I feel, +And give contentment to my heart. + +Oh! cheer me by thy presence, Lord, +Increase my faith an hundred fold; +Be _thy name_ on my forehead found, +_Mine_ in thy book of life enrolled. + +Dec. 19, 1862. + + + + + * * * * * + + +Forever closed that dark blue eye, +Full and expressive, pensive too; +Thy light brown hair, and face so fair, +And graceful form are hid from view. + + + + +LIFE'S CHANGES. + + +A fair young girl was to the altar led +By him she loved, the chosen of her heart; +And words of solemn import there were said, +And mutual vows were pledged till death should part. + +But life was young, and death a great way off, +At least it seemed so then, on that bright morn; +And they no doubt, expected years of bliss, +And in their path the rose without a thorn. + +Cherished from infancy with tenderest care, +A precious only daughter was the bride; +And when that young protector's arm she took, +She for the first time left her parents' side. + +With all a woman's tender, trustful heart, +She gave herself away to him she loved; +Why should she not, was he not all her own, +A choice by friends and parents too approved? + +How rapidly with him the days now fly, +With _him_ the partner of her future life; +Happy and joyous as a child she'd been, +Happy as daughter, _happier still as wife_. + +But ere eight months in quick succession passed, +One to each human heart a dreaded foe, +Entered her house, and by a single stroke, +Blasted her hopes, and laid her idol low. + +Three months of bitter anguish was endured, +But hope again revived, and she was blest, +When pressing to her heart a darling child, +Whose little head she pillowed on her breast. + +Not long is she permitted to enjoy, +This sweetest bud of promise to her given; +Short as an angel's visit was its stay, +When God, who gave it, took it up to heaven. + +Ah, what a contrast one short year presents! +Replete with happiness--replete with woe; +In that brief space, a maiden called, and wife, +Widow and mother written--childless too. + +Surely my friend, I need not say to thee, +Look not to earth for what it can't bestow; +'Tis at the best a frail and brittle reed, +Which trusting for support, will pierce thee through. + +Then let us look above this fleeting earth, +To heaven and heavenly joys direct our eyes; +No lasting happiness this world affords-- +"He builds too low who builds below the skies." + +Weston, Dec. 1, 1852. + + + + +LINES. + + "They will not frame their doings to turn unto their God. + Hosea, 5:4." + + +I would frame all my doings to please thee, my God! +'Tis from thee all my mercies proceed; +I would frame all my doings to serve thee, my God! +For thy service is freedom indeed. + +I would frame all my doings to please thee, my God! +But how feeble my best efforts are; +Ah! how needful for me is thy chastening rod, +And a proof of thy fatherly care. + +I would frame all my doings to serve thee, my God! +But my goodness extends not to thee; +And when on well doing I'm fully intent, +Alas! evil is present with me. + +My Creator, Preserver, Redeemer and King, +I would tax all my powers to obey; +But to Him let me look for the help that I need, +Who is the life, the light, and the way. + +Weston, Jan. 21, 1853. + + + + +"TAKE NO THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW." + + +Take no thought for the morrow, the Saviour hath said, +And he spake as ne'er man spake before; +"He carried our sorrows," "was acquainted with grief," +And knew well what the heart could endure. + +Let the morrow take care for the things of itself, +And not by its weight crush thee down; +Sufficient to-day is the evil thereof, +Let the ills of to-morrow alone. + +Neither boast of to-morrow, for what is thy life, +But a vapor that floateth away; +Like a _tale_ quickly told, or a _dream_ of the night, +That departs at the breaking of day. + +Be not like the man who once said in his heart, +"I have goods that are laid by for years;" +But scarce had he planned how they best might be stored, +When he dies and leaves all to his heirs. + +Neither _dread_ then, nor _boast_ of to-morrow, my soul, +But make most of the time that's now given; +Be the ground well prepared, with good seed sown thereon, +And 'twill yield a rich harvest in heaven. + +Jan. 24, 1853. + + + + +REMINISCENCES OF THE DEPARTED. + + +His mission soon accomplished, +His race on earth soon run, +He passed to realms of glory, +Above the rising sun. + +So beautiful that infant, +When in death's arms he lay; +It seemed like peaceful slumber, +That morn might chase away. + +But morning light was powerless, +Those eyelids to unclose; +And sunshine saw and left him, +In undisturbed repose. + +The light of those blue orbs +That drank the sunbeams in, +Now yields to night, and darkness +Holds undisputed reign. + +That little form so graceful, +The light brown chestnut hair; +Those half formed words when uttered, +That face so sweet and fair; + +All, all his ways so winning, +Were impotent to save +His life, when called to yield it +By _Him that_ life who gave. + +So soon his voyage ended, +The passage home so short, +Before he knew of evil, +He entered safe the port. + +Since thee, my child, I saw, +Long years have passed away; +Thy mother's hair then brown, +Now's intermixed with gray. + +Another link's been broken, +By death's relentless hand; +A daughter has been taken, +The eldest of the band. + +_Thy_ little lamp of life, +Was put out in a day; +But _hers_ was years expiring, +By slow yet sure decay. + +But _one_ short year of life, +Was all allotted thee; +But she, thy eldest sister, +Was _many_ years spared me. + +And though long since we parted, +On earth to meet no more; +I'd think of thee as children +"Not _lost_, but gone before." + +Feb. 20, 1853. + + + + +"LET ME DIE THE DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS." + + +By the river Euphrates the prophet abode, +To whom Balak his messengers sent, +Entreating his presence and curses on those +Who on Moab's destruction were bent. + +By hundreds of thousands they're marching along, +And by Moses, God's servant, they're led; +The rock for their thirst, cooling water supplies, +And with bread from the skies are they fed. + +They are felling the nations like trees on their way, +And their power there is none can resist; +"Come, curse me this people, oh! Balaam, I pray, +For he whom _thou_ cursest is curst." + +With rich bribes in their hands have these messengers come, +Both from Moab and Midian are they; +Desiring the Prophet with them would return, +And this without any delay. + +But the men are requested to stop over night, +That the will of the Lord he may learn; +And then if by Him he's permitted to go, +He'll accompany them on their return. + +Now when earth her dark mantle of night had put on, +And men's eyes in deep slumber were sealed; +In that solemn hour was the voice of God heard, +And his will to the Prophet revealed. + +"Thou shalt not go with them!" distinctly was said, +"Nor to curse the Lord's people presume;" +So the Princes of Moab returned as they came, +And left Balaam reluctant at home. + +Again unto Balaam were messages sent, +More in number, in _rank higher still_, +With the promise if Balak's request he would grant, +He may ask and receive what he will. + +But Balaam declared that if Balak would give +Him his house full of silver and gold, +The word of the Lord he could _not_ go beyond, +To do _more_ or do less than he's told. + +Still the bait was quite tempting, and Balaam was weak, +And wicked he certainly proved; +E'en the Ass that he rode, _that_ man's conduct condemned, +Who the gains of unrighteousness loved. + +In the country of Moab at length he arrives, +And King Balak hath met face to face, +Who requests that with him a high hill he'd ascend, +And the Israelites curse from that place. + +Three times seven altars were raised to the Lord, +And three times was the sacrifice made; +But the curse was withheld, for whom _God_ pronounced blest, +Even _Balaam_ to _curse_ was afraid. + +Poor Balaam, thy case is a hard one indeed; +Like a house that's divided thou art; +Both thy Maker and Mammon thou gladly would'st serve, +But the former requires thy whole heart. + +"Let me die the death of the righteous," say'st thou, +"And my last end like his let it be;" +But if like the righteous _unwilling to live_, +_Never hope like the righteous to die_. + +March 24, 1853. + + + + + * * * * * + +Though life is young, and spirits gay, +And hope thy fond heart cheers; +Though friends are kind, and health is firm, +And death _far off_ appears, + +Yet think not happiness like this, +Is destined long to last; +For ere to-morrow morn, perhaps, +Thy sky may be o'ercast. + +Ah! let not pleasure blind thy eyes, +Or flattery lure thy heart; +But in the morning of thy life, +Secure the better part. + +March 29, 1853. + + + + +THE GREAT PHYSICIAN. + + "And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so + must the Son of man be lifted up. + + "That whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have + eternal life." + + St. John, 3:14, 15. + + +What means that cry of anguish, +That strikes the distant ear; +The loud and piercing wailing, +In desert wilds we hear? + +From Israel's camp it cometh, +For Israel hath rebelled; +And these are cries of anguish, +By wrath of God impelled. + +It is no common sorrow, +Extorts that bitter groan; +'Tis from the broken hearted, +And caused by sin alone. + +Lo! in the far off desert, +Upon that tented ground, +Are many hundred thousands +Of weary travellers found. + +In desert of Arabia, +Near forty years they roam; +And soon they are to enter +"Canaan their happy home." + +But come with me and visit +A people so distressed; +They are the seed that Jacob +When dying pronounced blessed. + +We'll draw aside the curtain +Of tent that's nearest by; +Ah! what a mournful picture +For stranger's curious eye. + +See on that couch reclining, +A young and lovely girl, +With brow and neck half shaded. +By many a clustering curl. + +She was an only daughter, +Nurtured with tenderest care; +The idol of her parents, +And fairest of the fair. + +In bloom of youth and beauty, +But yesterday she shone; +And her fond parents thought her +A mine of wealth unknown. + +She seems like one that sleepeth, +But there's no sign of breath; +And coil'd 'neath her arm a serpent, +Whose bite is _certain death_. + +Yet not alone the mourners +In this sad tent are found; +Shriek after shriek is echoed +For many miles around. + +The mother, too, is bitten, +With infant in her arms; +And sire, in strength of manhood; +And bride, with all her charms. + +But see on pole suspended, +A serpent now appears; +And hark! what blissful tidings +Salute the mourner's ears. + +For every one that's bitten, +A remedy is found; +However bad the case is, +However deep the wound. + +If but _one spark_ remaineth +Of life in any soul, +Just look upon this serpent, +That look will make thee whole. + +But there's a wound that's deeper +Than fiery serpent gave; +And bite that's _doubly_ fatal, +It kills beyond the grave. + +And there's a great physician, +That e'en _this wound_ may cure; +And those to him applying, +May life and health secure. + +The broken heart he healeth, +He cures the sin-sick soul; +And all who will behold him, +May _look_ and be made whole. + +"I am the way!" he crieth; +"And all who will may come, +I'll pardon their transgression, +And safe conduct them home. + +"To cleanse from all pollution, +My blood doth freely flow; +And sins, though red as scarlet, +Shall be as white as snow. + +"Thy ransom to pay for thee, +E'en my own life it cost; +And he such love that slighteth, +Forever shall be lost." + +April 14, 1853. + + + + +TO MY NIECE, MRS. M.A. CALDWELL. + + +When days are dark and spirits low, +And hope desponding stands, +What comfort these few words bestow, +"My times are in thy hands." +That thought should every fear allay, +And every cloud dispel; +For we are in the hands of _One_ +Who "doeth all things well." + +He clothes the lily of the field, +Paints the gay tulip's leaf, +Hears the young ravens when they cry, +And hastes to their relief. +That little sparrow in thy path, +He noticed when it fell; +Numbereth the hairs upon thy head, +And "doeth all things well." + +Then say not when with cares oppressed, +He hath forsaken me; +For had thy father loved thee less, +Would he so chasten thee? +A friend he takes, a Husband too, +A Child, with him to dwell; +Selects the day, the place, the hour-- +"He doeth all things well." + +His power is _heard_ when thunders roll, +_Felt_ when the cold wind blows, +_Seen_ in the vivid lightning's flash, +And in the blushing rose. +He cares for monarch on his throne, +For hermit in his cell, +For sailor on the mighty deep-- +"He doeth all things well." + +He raiseth one to high estate, +He brings another low; +_This year_ an empire doth create +The _next_ may overthrow. +What he may plan for you or me, +While here on earth we dwell, +We know not--but of this I'm sure, +"He doeth all things well." + +Weston, April 18, 1853. + + + + +THE MORNING DRIVE. + +FOR MY DAUGHTER MARGARET. + + +Very like to a dream, +Doth the time to me seem, +When with thee a young girl by my side, +One of summer's fine days, +In a one pony chaise, +We commenced in the morning our ride. + +By the pine grove and nook, +Over bridge and through brook, +Quite at random we drove without fear; +While the birds of the grove, +In sweet harmony strove, +By their concert of music to cheer. +With none to molest us, +No home cares to press us, +Farther onward, and onward we roam; +But at length the skies lower, +And unhoped for the shower +Finds us many miles distant from home. + +Even so is life's day, +Like a fair morn in May, +With hope's bright bow of promise it cheers; +But long before night, +The sun that so bright +In the morning had shone, disappears. + +Do not then I entreat, +My beloved Margaret, +Be content with this world for thy portion; +Let ambition soar _higher_, +E'en _above_ earth aspire, +And to God give thy heart's true devotion. + +April 29, 1853. + + + + +REPLY TO A TOAST, + +SENT BY MR. W. TO THE LADIES OF WAYLAND, AT THEIR FAIR HELD ON MAY-DAY. + + +Many, _many_ kind thanks from the Waylanders fair, +Who are sorry, quite sorry you could not be there, +To receive their warm greeting, partake of their cheer, +And repaid by their smiles for your wishes sincere. +That health and content may your footsteps attend, +Believe me, dear sir, is the wish of your friend. + +May 2, 1853. + + + + +TO MR. C.R. + +FOR MANY YEARS DEPRIVED OF SIGHT. + + +They say the sun is shining +In all his splendor now, +And clouds in graceful drapery, +Are sailing to an fro. + +That birds of brilliant plumage, +Are soaring on the wing; +Exulting in the daylight, +Rejoicing as they sing. + +They tell me too that roses, +E'en in _my_ pathway lie; +And decked in rich apparel, +Attract the passers by. + +They say the sun when setting, +Is glorious to behold; +And sheds on all at parting, +A radiant crown of gold. + +And then the night's pale empress, +With all her glittering train, +The vacant throne ascending, +Resumes her peaceful reign. + +That she in queenly beauty, +Subdued yet silvery light, +Makes scarcely less enchanting +Than day, the sober night. + +But sights like these so cheering, +Alas, I cannot see! +The daylight and the darkness +Are both alike to me. + +Yet there's a world above us, +So beautiful and fair, +That nothing here can equal, +And nought with it compare. + +There, in a blaze of glory, +Amidst a countless throng, +The Saviour smiles complacent, +While listening to their song. + +Ten thousand times ten thousand, +Their cheerful voices raise, +While golden harps in harmony +Are tuned to sound the praise + +Of Him the blest deliverer, +Who conquered when he fell; +The man of many sorrows, +The _Great Immanuel_. + +But stop--I dare not venture +Too far on holy ground; +Its _heights_ are too exalted, +Its _depths_ are too profound. + +Yet may I be permitted, +When this brief life is past, +The hope in yon bright heaven, +To find my home at last. + +When cleansed from all pollution, +From sin and sorrow free, +I, with unclouded vision, +My Saviour God may see. + +Brooklyn, May, 1853. + + + + +TO MY MISSIONARY FRIENDS, + +MR. AND MRS. I.G. BLISS. + + +Why, dear friends, oh! tell us wherefore +You're so anxious to be gone; +Is the country late adopted +Dearer to you than your own? + +Have you found a father, mother, +In that distant clime to love, +Or a sister, friend, or brother, +Better than the long-tried prove? + +"Oh, no! believe us, no such motives +Prompt us to tempt old ocean's wave; +We go among the poor benighted, +Perhaps to find an early grave. + +"Ah! you know not half our anguish-- +Only those who _feel_ can tell-- +When we think of the sad parting, +And that solemn word--farewell. + +"But while lingering, souls are dying, +Souls that Jesus came to save; +And of such a priceless value, +That for them his life he gave. + +"Trials great no doubt await us +In that distant home of ours; +Work requiring so much labor, +As to exceed our utmost powers. + +"But He who said 'Go preach the gospel,' +All powerful is, to aid, defend; +'Lo I am with you always,' said he, +'And will be even to the end.' + +"With such command, and such a promise, +Sure our path of duty's plain; +Do not then, dear friends, persuade us +Longer with _thee_ to remain." + +Go then, go! we'll not detain you, +We dare not ask your longer stay; +And may winds and waves of ocean, +Waft you safely on your way. + +They who all forsake for Jesus, +Father, mother, country, home, +Here an hundred fold are promised, +And eternal life to come. + +Go then, go! but when far distant, +Bear us sometimes on your mind; +When for others interceding, +Forget not those you leave behind. + +And when your earthly warfare's ended, +And you have laid your armor down, +May souls of poor benighted Asia +Add _many_ stars to your bright crown. + + + + +TO MY HUSBAND. + + +Just two-and-forty years have passed[5] +Since we, a youthful pair, +Together at the altar stood, +And mutual vows pledged there. + +Our lives have been a checkered scene, +Since that midsummer's eve; +Much good received our hearts to cheer, +And much those hearts to grieve. + +Children confided to our care, +Hath God in kindness given, +Of whom five still on earth remain, +And two, we trust, in heaven. + +How many friends of early days, +Have fallen by our side; +Shook by some blast, like autumn leaves +They withered, drooped, and died. + +But still permitted, hand in hand +Our journey we pursue; +And when we're weary, cheered by glimpse +Of "_better land_" in view. + +We may not hope in this low world, +Much longer to remain, +But oh! there's rapture in the thought, +That we may meet again. + + [5] July 14, 1853. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Kings and Queens of England with +Other Poems, by Mary Ann H. 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