Poems by Rebekah Smith Part 21

Oh! tell me, friend, in grief he cried, About my joyful home, And those bright, sunny fields o'er which We used to sport and roam.

Oh! is the waterfall still there, Wherein I used to play, Without one thought of grief and care, Through all the livelong day.

And is my father, mother, there, And brother, sister kind?

And do they know my hopeless lot, In this dark cell confined?

Oh! could I see them but once more, And press them to my breast, And meet their sweet, forgiving smile, My weary soul could rest.

Ah! had I not too fondly loved, I had not seen this day, Apart from all that I hold dear, Alone to waste away.

A rival came--with vilest art Allured her from my side, And triumphed in my loss, until She found him false, and died.

Sick of the world, I left my home, Far from parental care; I roved, a wild and thoughtless thing, Exposed to every snare, Till tossed on fortune's faithless sea, I sought to drown my woe In revelry and crime, that's brought Me in this dungeon low.

Oh! cruel Fate that bids me dwell In this cold, living tomb!

Oh! mother, couldst thou see me here, And know my deepest gloom, Thou wouldst forgive thy erring son, And heal his broken heart; Repenting, thou wouldst soothe his grief, And words of love impart.

Upon his knees, his hands he clasped, In agony he cried-- We part! the past comes o'er my brain Like an overwhelming tide; 'Tis like a dark and troubled dream, That fain I would forget-- But oh! through all the day and night Its horror haunts me yet.

Ah! wildly now he gazed around The cell; no more he said, Save in some broken accents wild, For reason now had fled.

I looked again--his n.o.ble form Lay stretched upon the floor; He gave one last, one bitter groan-- The prisoner was no more.

The Clouds.

How beautiful the clouds, The morning's purple clouds; How sweet they calm reposing lie In yonder deep blue azure sky, Streaked with crimson pale and red, Fair as violets in their bed; Gliding, floating, moving ever Onward, onward, stopping never.

How beautiful the clouds, The noontide's burning clouds; Mountains of pure white driven snow, In upper regions on they go; Pillars of ever living light, Piles of crystal gems as bright, Gliding, moving, hurrying ever Onward, onward, stopping never.

How beautiful the clouds, The dark and rolling clouds; With tempest, storm, and fury crowned, Where lightnings fiercely play around; Terrific, grand, sublime, they rise When pealing thunders rend the skies; Whirling, heaving, rolling ever Onward, onward, stopping never.

How beautiful the clouds, The golden sunset clouds; Tinged with yellow, mellow light, Warm, rich hues that gladden sight; As sinks the wave in ocean's breast, So fades the many-colored west; Fading, pa.s.sing, gliding ever Onward, onward, stopping never.

How beautiful the clouds, The evening, moonlit clouds; On tireless wings of snowy hue They move through heaven's ethereal blue; Like fairy forms of crystal light, Arrayed in robes of silver white; Gliding, floating, moving ever Onward, onward, stopping never.

And in our weary march, The whirling, pa.s.sing clouds Are emblems of life's hurried way, Swift pa.s.sing down its fleeting day; In smiles and tears the restless mind Is ever seeking--ne'er to find-- A resting place--but hurrying ever Onward, onward, stopping never.

Youth's hopes, oh! what are they, But clouds of changing hue; Sometimes they're tinged with golden light, Beaming with softening beauty bright; Like clouds they fade, they pa.s.s, they die, And leave no trace upon the sky; Fleeting, fading, pa.s.sing ever Onward, onward, stopping never.

I'd be, when life shall wane, Like white-winged clouds of even; Through fields of endless day I'd roam, And find me there a starry home; Beyond this world, far, far, away, To Heaven's own light I'd wing my way; Through realms of bliss there roaming ever Onward, onward, stopping never.

The Unchanged.

I saw her 'mid the birds and blossoms when a rosy laughing child, Playing by the silver rivulet, joyous in its murmurings wild; Now wandering o'er the sunny green with buoyant step and free, In the mild and balmy breeze that fanned the flowery lee.

In life's fair spring-time, when the heart is lightest, free from care, When fancy spreads her pinions wide and soars on wings of air, Earth's mantling robe, so brightly decked with rainbow-colored hue, Came o'er the soul in visions soft as falls the pearly dew.

The morn of youth was on her cheek when love her bosom thrilled, With golden dreams of future bliss her gentle soul was filled-- Unsullied by the world's cold strife, its darkness and untruth, When in its tender infancy, the guileless love of youth.

She thought the world could ne'er be lone while one might not depart, Who was the wors.h.i.+ped idol of her young and trusting heart; His dark eyes woke the flame within of soul-lit l.u.s.trous hue, To be unquenched--the holy light of pure devotion true.

Genius marked his lofty brow for wreathing chaplets fair, And from the deeply-treasured fount of knowledge rich and rare, She quaffed the crystal streams that flowed, with kind and fervent heart, As flowers will gather sweetness that may never more depart.

And oft she gazed with rapture on that bright angelic face, So radiant and beautiful with eloquence and grace; His voice, like tones of music sweet, bound with a magic spell, As gems of wisdom from his lips in heavenly accents fell.

In fas.h.i.+on's brilliant halls, where gay alluring pleasures throng, No flattering smiles could win her from her childhood's happy song; When many a garland twined her brow and pa.s.sion's voice soft fell, She was true to him who knew not how she had loved so well.

Ah! cruel fate that bids the shades of change with fleeting years, Sad separation's bitter pang must dim with burning tears-- Like some lone beacon's glimmering ray the star of hope shall be, To guide the bark by tempest driven o'er life's dark, troubled sea.

The cherished love of early years say not she can forget, That springs in youth's fresh vernal prime, and with its tears are wet; Its tender buddings crushed may be, and blighted its return, Its wasted fragrance lingers still around its broken urn.

When time shall fade youth's glowing charms, its joy and romance fled, Love's purest flame is s.h.i.+ning o'er the altar of the dead-- Through desert paths and weary of life's ever-changing day, With light and peace his memory shall pave her lonely way.

I saw her in the moonlit vale, a lovely maiden's form, Her spirit in illusions wrapped, her cheek with vigor warm; Untouched by sorrow's withering hand, so pale, for hers were dreams Of other years--that for the night had cast their halo beams.

And may the silken tie so fond, unbroken e'er remain, Bright angels hover round her way to s.h.i.+eld till life shall wane; Unchanging be the heart's first love, till in immortal bloom, In yonder Paradise her home and rest beyond the tomb.

Lines

Written on the Death of Lorenzo D. Upham.

Lamented youth, thy spirit now has fled, Thy youthful form in earth's cold bosom lies.

Why art thou numbered with the early dead?

Who would not weep when one so lovely dies?

Why wert thou thus cut down in manhood's bloom, When life to thee was all a summer's day, Consigned unto the dark and silent tomb, Nought but a lump of cold and lifeless clay?

And oft the mourner there doth go and weep, And youthful friends shed many a bitter tear For him who lies in his last, dreamless sleep, For him they loved and ever held most dear.

We miss thee, brother, in our youthful band, Thy words of love, thy gentle accents sweet; But thou hast left us in this dreary land, No more shall we thy social presence greet.

Thou wast a n.o.ble youth, the younger son, Thy father's hope and solace in his years; But short thy stay; ah! soon life's labor done, Soon thou hast left a weary vale of tears.

Yes; thou hast left a world of care and toil, Where storms and tempests o'er our pathway rise, Calmly to sleep beneath the verdant soil, Till called triumphant to the upper skies.

Then rest thee, brother, free from all thy pain, Above thee bloom the rose and violet fair.

We would not wish thee back to earth again, But let thee calmly, sweetly, slumber there.