And, like a summer's peaceful eve,
Oh, I have seen thy spirit leave
world when worn with years,
While, like the flowers surcharged with dew,
The family train that round thee drew
Were lovely in their tears.
O spotless babe! thus may thy time
Pass-as it oft hath passed-
A hopeful youth, a happy prime,
A peaceful close at last.
Oh, many a careless eye may gaze,
Upon thy little early days,
As on some transient floweret's bloom,
Yet see thee heir of human life,
Of earthly cares, of earthly strife,
Of sorrow, and the tomb.
Then wilt thou ever bless the heart
That hailed thy opening day,
When time and truth may yet impart
A value to my lay?
Oh, I perhaps may live to see
Each joy that I have wished to thee;
But if I must not linger here
To see my little cares repaid,
O seek the ground where I am laid,
And pay me with a tear!
Oh, she was good and she was fair!-RODGERS.
SHE left us when spring-time
Had painted the plain,
And promised in autumn
To see us again.
Long, long seemed the summer
When she was away,
And we sighed for the woodlands
And flowers to decay.
The tree at our window
Had scattered its leaves,
And the swallow had left us
That sung from the eaves,
When we thought of her promise
To see us again,
And longed for her coming,
But all was in vain.
She left us in spring-time
In health and in joy,
But the breezes of autumn
Had blown to destroy !
We saw her long funeral
Come over the plain,
And the voice that could cheer us
Can cheer not again!
HAIL, solitary violet, hail!
I love to see thee here once more;
I now have seen three opening springs
Thy infant flower restore.
How peaceful hath thy shelter been
Beneath the surface of the sod,
Though sweeping winds have o'er thee raged,
And careless feet have trod!
But I have found no friendly shade
From troublous life's destroying blast;
My joys are blighted every one,
My hopes are overcast.
My fervent heart was once so firm,
I would have blushed if I had wept,
But now the feelings of a child
Into that heart have crept.
Here I have lain for many an hour,
And wet thy leaves with many a tear,
For woes the world has never heard-
The world shall never hear.
Oh, I might tell them to a friend,
And he would weep, but could not save;
Then I will keep them in my heart,
And hide them in the grave.
Who then shall tread this lonely walk,
At summer eve's enchanting hour,
And o'er thy simple beauty melt,
And hail thy modest flower?
Another may. But will he know
That in thy leaves my tear-drops lay,
Or hear the plaint that from my lips
The breezes bore away?
Oh, he may hail thy modest flower,
And o'er thy simple beauty melt,
he never, never feel
The woes that I have felt.
Farewell, sweet flower! the dews of eve
Have steeped thy closing fringe in tears;
And I must seek my sleepless couch,
And think of former years!
(Extract from a Poem entitled "A Father's Cottage.")
STILL, still whene'er to pensive thoughts inclined,
The parting morn returns upon my mind,
And I behold, yet winding o'er the plain,
Our father, mother, and their little train;
While on mine ear, in feeling accents, fell
A sire's instructions, with his last farewell-
Even like some tune that soothed our early years,
When every note was answered by our tears,
Yet can by far a deeper charm impart,
When memory brings it back upon the heart-
"And now, my son! though far thy steps may roam,
Keep in remembrance still thy native home;
Let us not see thee with these aged eyes
Our early lessons and our love despise ;
Let us not be ashamed we gave thee birth,
And go with sorrow to our parent earth;
But, when the world's beguiling pleasures lure,
Think, think of us, and thou wilt stand secure.
Oh, couldst thou but thy grandsire's merits claim, And bear his character as well as name—
For there were virtues in that old man's mind
Beyond whate'er I met in humankind,
And I could almost weep when I recall
His words, and actions, and endearments all!
Well I remember, on that night he died,
When every remedy was vainly tried,
I laid his hand upon thy infant head,
Asked him to bless thee, and he fondly did;
He bade me rear thee as an heir of heaven,
Give the instructions he himself had given,
And though he could not lift his languid eyes,
He trusted yet to see thee in the skies.
"Thou knowest, my son! it is my wish to rest Near that of parents and of men the best ; And in thy absence, lest it be forgot,
Thy younger brother now can point the spot.
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