Poems

Sweet spirit of love, at soft eventide
Wake gently the chords of her lyre,
And whisper of one who sat by her side
To join with the neighboring choir;
And tell how that heart is silent and sad,
No melody sweeps o'er its strings!
'Tis breaking alone, but a young heart and glad —
Might cheer it, perchance, when she sings.

    Lynn, Mass., August 25, 1866.

LINES, ON VISITING PINE GROVE CEMETERY

Ah, why should the brief bliss of life's little day
Grow cold in this spot as the spiritless clay,
And thought be at work with the long-buried hours,
And tears be bedewing these fresh-smiling flowers!

Ah, wherefore the memory of dear ones deemed dead
Should bow thee, as winds bow the tall willow's head!
Beside you they walk while you weep, and but pass
From your sight as the shade o'er the dark wavy grass.

The cypress may mourn with her evergreen tears,
And, like the blue hyacinth, change not with years;
Yea, flowers of feeling may blossom above,
To yield earth the fragrance of goodness and love;

So one heart is left me – she breathes in my ear,
"I'm living to bless thee; for this are we here."
And when this sweet pledge to my lone heart was given,
Earth held but this joy, or this happiness heaven!

Here the rock and the sea and the tall waving pine
Enchant deep the senses, – subduing, sublime;
Yet stronger than these is the spell that hath power
To sweep o'er the heartstrings in memory's hour.

Of the past 'tis the talisman, when we three met,
When the star of our friendship arose not to set;
And pure as its rising, and bright as the star,
Be its course through our heavens, whether near or afar.

    Lynn, Mass., August 24, 1865.

A VERSE

Mother's New Year Gift to the Little Children

Father-Mother God,
Loving me, —
Guard me when I sleep;
Guide my little feet
Up to Thee.

To the Big Children

Father-Mother good, lovingly
Thee I seek, —
Patient, meek,
In the way Thou hast, —
Be it slow or fast,
Up to Thee.

TRUTH

Beyond the clouds, away
In the dim distance, lay
A bright and golden shower
At sunset's radiant hour, —
Like to the soul's glad immortality,
Making this life divine,
Making its waters wine,
Giving the glory that eye cannot see.

In God there is no night, —
Truth is eternal light,
A help forever near;
For sinless sense is here
In Truth, the Life, the Principle of man.
Away, then, mortal sense!
Then, error, get thee hence,
Thy discord ne'er in harmony began!

Immortal Truth, – since heaven rang,
The while the glad stars sang
To hail creation's glorious morn —
As when this babe was born,
A painless heraldry of Soul, not sense, —
Shine on our 'wildered way,
Give God's idea sway,
And sickness, sin, and death are banished hence.

    Lynn, Mass., April, 1871.

"THE LIBERTY BELLS"

This is the hour they then foretold —
When earth, inebriate with crime,
Laughed right to scorn, and guilt, grown bold,