FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   117   118   119   120   121   122   123   124   125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141  
142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155   156   157   158   159   160   161   162   163   164   165   166   >>   >|  
MARY'S GRAVE. In a quiet country churchyard From the city far away, Where no marble stands in mockery Above the mould'ring clay; Where rears no sculptured monument-- There grass and flowers wave 'Round a spot where mem'ry lingers-- My once-loved Mary's grave. They laid her down to slumber In this lonely quiet spot, They raised no stone above her, No epitaph they wrote; They pressed the fresh mould o'er her As earth to earth they gave-- Their hearts with anguish bursting, They turned from Mary's grave. She knew not much of grief or care Ere yet by Death's cold hand, Her soul was snatched from earth away To join the spirit band: Her mild blue eye hath lost its gleam, No more her sufferings crave The hand of pity, but the tear Falls oft o'er Mary's grave. I too would pay my tribute there, I who have loved her well. And drop one silent, sorrowing tear This storm of grief to quell; 'Tis all the hope I dare indulge, 'Tis all the boon I crave, To pay the tribute of a tear, Loved Mary, o'er thy grave. TO ANSELMO. Anselmo was the nom de plume of David Scott, of James. I know thee not, and yet I fain Would call thee brother, friend; I know that friendship, virtue, truth, All in thy nature blend. I know by thee the formal bow, The half deceitful smile Are valued not; they ill become The man that's free from guile. I know thee not, and yet my breast Thrills ever at thy song, And bleeds to know, that thou hast felt The weight of "woe and wrong." 'Tis said the soul with care opprest Grows patient 'neath the weight, And after years can bear it well E'en though the load be great. And, that the heart oft stung by grief Is senseless to the pain, And bleeding bares it to the barb, To bid it strike again. I care not if the heart has borne All that the world can give, Of "disappointment, hate and scorn;" In hope 'twill ever live, And feel the barb'd and poison'd stings Of anguish, grief and care, As keenly as in years gone by, When first they entered there. The weary soul by care opprest May utter no complaints, But loaths the weight it cannot bear And weakens till it faints. FLOWERS. Bring flowers for the youthful throng, Of variegated glow, And twine of them a gaudy wreath Around each childish brow. Bring flowers for the maiden gay, Bring flowers rich and rare, And weave the buds of br
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   117   118   119   120   121   122   123   124   125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141  
142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155   156   157   158   159   160   161   162   163   164   165   166   >>   >|  



Top keywords:
flowers
 

weight

 

anguish

 

tribute

 

opprest

 
churchyard
 
strike
 

country

 
senseless
 

bleeding


Thrills

 

stands

 
breast
 

bleeds

 
patient
 

marble

 
FLOWERS
 
youthful
 

faints

 

loaths


weakens

 

throng

 

variegated

 

childish

 

Around

 

wreath

 

complaints

 

disappointment

 

valued

 

poison


entered

 
stings
 

keenly

 

maiden

 

deceitful

 
spirit
 

sufferings

 
lingers
 

snatched

 
turned

epitaph
 

bursting

 
hearts
 
pressed
 

slumber

 

lonely

 
raised
 

brother

 
friend
 

friendship