Poems by Rebekah Smith Part 20

Lines

Suggested by the Wreck of the Minot Ledge Lighthouse.

On the rock, a beacon lighted, Shone upon the stormy wave; There to guide the bark, benighted: Home of those, the true and brave.

Clouds of wrath the skies are veiling, Danger, wreck, and death are nigh; Lone and wild, the sea-bird's wailing As the storm-wind whistles by.

Tempests rave--fierce roars the ocean, Higher swells the angry foam; Winds and waves in wild commotion, Fearful rock their storm-tossed home.

Night of anguish, wo and sorrow, Wrapt in midnight's pall of gloom, Gleams no light upon the morrow, Dark beneath a watery tomb.

Hark! the bell is loudly ringing With a deep, and solemn wail.

Death-like knells around are flinging, In the wild, terrific gale.

Still, the beacon-light is flas.h.i.+ng, None could reach them from the sh.o.r.e.

Towering waves, in fury das.h.i.+ng, They must sink to rise no more.

Wrecks along the sh.o.r.e are lying, On the heaving surges tossed; Mournful winds and waves are sighing, Ocean's requiem for the lost; Mighty dome, by tempest shattered, Billows o'er thee darkly sweep, Treasure far more precious, scattered In the bosom of the deep.

Far beneath the rolling billow, Sleep the n.o.ble, young and brave; Ocean's coral bed their pillow, And their shroud, the foamy wave; Wreck or monument, may never Point the fatal rock, swept bare; But enshrined in memory, ever, Faithful hearts that perished there.

Lines

Addressed to a little Orphan Child.

Poor little orphan child!

I see thee happy now, With glossy ringlets waving O'er thy sunny brow; With tender heart as light and free As birds in summer air, With beauty, grace, that well might vie With rose and lily fair.

Poor little orphan child!

The tears steal down my cheek, For oh! how little dreamest thou The world is cold and bleak; How little knowest thou the toil, The turmoil, care, and strife, The tears, the sighs, that may beset The orphan's path in life.

Poor little orphan child!

'Tis bitter hard to roam In this cold, dark, unfeeling world, Both friendless and alone, Where friends.h.i.+p ends in selfish aims, Lips smile but to deceive, Unkindness mars the spirit's peace, And leaves the heart to grieve.

Poor little orphan child!

For thee is pained my heart; Should sickness pale thy rosy cheek, And light and hope depart,-- Oh, who would then be near to bathe The weary, aching head, And twine around thee, arms of love, And joy and gladness shed.

Poor little orphan child!

Thou'lt miss a mother's care, To watch thy youthful steps, Thy little griefs to share; No voice is like a mother's voice, No look so sweet and mild, No smile is like her loving smile, Upon a darling child.

Oh! ye who revel in your ease, The orphan's cry should heed, Nor with a cold indifference Treat them in hour of need.

Ye know not of the anguish deep, That rends their aching heart, Or of the woe and misery Your cold words may impart.

Poor little orphan child!

May angels guide their way, For there are thousand treacherous paths, That lead the feet astray.

Sin comes in many a dazzling form,-- Fearful the tempter's power, Oh, G.o.d of love forbid thy fall, In the dark, trying hour.

Poor little orphan child!

Should tears e'er dim the eye, And grief and sorrow fill the soul, And friends no one be nigh; There is a friend above, on whom Cast all thy earthly care, Who ne'er forsakes the fatherless, But hears the orphan's prayer.

Poor little orphan child!

I would not shade thy brow, By telling thee of after years, To make thee sorrow now.

Oh, no! in childish innocence Play on with life and glee, With dimpled cheek and joyous laugh, So happy, pure and free.

Poor little orphan child!

Blest be thy pa.s.sage o'er The ever changing sea of life, To Canaan's peaceful sh.o.r.e.

There mayst thou safely land Where sorrow ne'er will come, To join thy loved--that happy band In one eternal home.

Oh! Let me be on the Stormy Sea.

Oh! let me be on the stormy sea, Where darksome clouds arise; When the waters dash and the lightnings flash, Along the dismal skies; There I should be so wild and free.

Oh! let me roam, on the ocean wave Oh! give me a home.

Oh! let me be on the stormy sea, When the tempests madly rave; Where no voice is heard, save the wild sea bird, As it skims o'er the foamy wave; No strife and care would reach me there.

Then let me roam, on the ocean wave Oh! give me a home.

Oh! let me be on the stormy sea, For there is the home of the brave; We never fear when danger's near, Tossed on the towering wave; Boldly they sail through wind and gale.

There let me roam, on the ocean wave Oh! give me a home.

Oh! let me be on the stormy sea, Where the raging billows bound; Where the roaring surge and mournful dirge Is ever heard around; Where the wild winds sigh, as they whistle by.

Oh! there would I roam, on the ocean wave Oh! give me a home.

Oh! let me be on the stormy sea, Far down in the briny deep; On corals gay, myriads lay, In their last silent sleep.

Beneath the wave, a wat'ry grave They've found. No more they'll roam-- 'Neath ocean's wave they've found a home.

The Exiled Prisoner.

Lines occasioned by the Story of an Exile who died of grief on meeting a former friend.

I met him in his gloomy cell, Where all alone and sad, He spent the darksome day and night In homely vesture clad.

No golden sunlight ever threw Its l.u.s.tre o'er his room; No gladsome voices ever cheered Its dreariness and gloom.

Oh! he was fair and beautiful, With cl.u.s.tering auburn hair, That waved in many a ringlet o'er The brow of genius rare-- The loved in his sweet native land, The pride of his dear home, Once he, who sat within these walls, In iron fetters lone.

I wept as I did on him look, For we were friends in youth; Together trod the selfsame path Of wisdom and of truth; Together roamed o'er hill and dale, As happy, light, and free As joyous birds in summer air, In boyish pride and glee.

Ah! strangely altered now his face, Depicted with despair; Yet still methought that I could trace Some former beauty there.

Yet something of the light had gone That flashed his raven eye, And pallid cheek, and thin, white lip, Told of full many a sigh.