To wicked deeds I was inclined, And wicked fancies crossed my mind; And every man I chanced to see, I thought he knew some ill of me. No peace, no comfort could I find, No ease, within doors or without; And crazily, and wearily, I went my work about. Oft-times I thought to run away; For me it was a woeful day.
Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me,
As dear as my own Children be; For daily with my growing store I loved my Children more and more. Alas! it was an evil time; God cursed me in my sore distress; I prayed, yet every day I thought I loved my Children less; And every week, and every day, My flock, it seemed to melt away.
They dwindled, Sir, sad sight to see! From ten to five, from five to three, A lamb, a weather, and a ewe;- And then at last, from three to two; And, of my fifty, yesterday
I had but only one:
And here it lies upon my arm, Alas! and I have none;-
To-day I fetched it from the rock;
It is the last of all my flock."
THERE is a change and I am poor; Your Love hath been, nor long ago, A Fountain at my fond Heart's door, Whose only business was to flow; And flow it did; not taking heed Of its own bounty, or my need.
What happy moments did I count! Bless'd was I then all bliss above! Now, for this consecrated Fount Of murmuring, sparkling, living love, What have I? shall I dare to tell? A comfortless and hidden WELL.
A Well of love-it may be deep- I trust it is, and never dry: What matter? if the Waters sleep In silence and obscurity.
-Such change, and at the very door Of my fond Heart, hath made me poor.
WHEN Ruth was left half desolate Her Father took another Mate; And Ruth, not seven years old, A slighted Child, at her own will Went wandering over dale and hill, In thoughtless freedom bold.
And she had made a Pipe of straw, And from that oaten Pipe could draw All sounds of winds and floods; Had built a Bower upon the green, As if she from her birth had been An Infant of the woods.
Beneath her Father's roof, alone She seemed to live; her thoughts her own;
Herself her own delight:
Pleased with herself, nor sad nor gay, She passed her time; and in this way Grew up to Woman's height.
There came a Youth from Georgia's shore
A military Casque he wore
With splendid feathers drest;
He brought them from the Cherokees;
The feathers nodded in the breeze, And made a gallant crest.
From Indian blood you deem him sprung: Ah no! he spake the English tongue,
And bore a Soldier's name;
And, when America was free
From battle and from jeopardy, He 'cross the ocean came.
With hues of genius on his cheek In finest tones the Youth could speak. --While he was yet a Boy
The moon, the glory of the sun,
And streams that murmur as they run,
Had been his dearest joy.
He was a lovely Youth! I guess The panther in the wilderness
Was not so fair as he;
« PreviousContinue » |