| Share page |
|
142 Glimpses of Our Ancestors. |
||
|
Thy young life hath been only past in love, and joy, and bliss ; Thou but hast known a mother's care, a sister's love and kiss ; But thou shalt seek another now, shalt bear another's name, And the love that we alone have shared, another now may claim!
For thou, fair girl, art like the bird that left her ark of rest,
To seek a dwelling-place on earth, and build herself a nest;
So thou hast left thy happy home, in other spheres to soar,
And, like the dove the Patriarch sent, shalt seek thine ark no more.
And sad our task will be, and long, thy mem'ry to retrace ; To see, in fancy see, thy form, and view thy vacant place; To dwell with grief on every charm that bade us once rejoice, And miss the magic of thy smile, the music of thy voice.
One thought the while shall cheer our woes and soothe our grief to rest: It is the thought, where'er thou art, that thou must still be blest; For howsoe'er thy lot be cast, wherever thou mayst be, All gentlest hopes and kindest loves must live and die with thee !
And when before the sacred shrine thou standest shorJy now, To pledge thy faith to God and man, and breathe the life-long vow, Our warmest loves, our fondest thoughts, shall all be with thee there, And meet and mingle in the sky in blessing and in prayer !
But hark ! they call—thy lover waits—no more must we delay, We fain would hold thee ever thus, yet dare not bid thee stay ; These streaming eyes, these breaking hearts, the pain of parting tell, And these faint sobs are meant to say, but cannot speak, farewell!
The following graceful lines illustrate the union in George Richardson of tastes usually so opposed as the poetic and the scientific:—
THE NAUTILUS AND THE AMMONITE. |
||
|
The Nautilus and the Ammonite Were launch'd in storm and strife,
Each sent to float, in its tiny boat, On the wide wild sea of life.
And each could swim on the Ocean's brim,
And anon its sails could furl, And sink to sleep, in the great sea-deep,
In a palace all of pearl.
And their's was bliss more fair than this
That we feel in our colder clime, For they were rife in tropic life,
In a brighter, happier clime.
They swam mid isles whose summer smiles
No wintry winds annoy, Whose groves were palm, whose air was balm,
Where life was only joy. |
||