Yet, pearly tears were those, to gem A Sister's bridal diadem. No words could half so well have spoken, What thus was deeply shewn By Nature's simplest, dearest token, Endearing her for whom they fell, But now no more-nor let a Brother, Louise, regretful see, That still 'tis sorrow to another, That he should happy be. Those were, I trust, the only tears That day shall cost through coming years. Smile with us. Happy and light-hearted, We three the time will while. And when sometimes a season parted, Still think of us, and smile. But come to us in gloomy weather; 1815. TO MRS. S. R. W. My friend, the trying hour is past, O Woman ! in thy hour of dread, Alas! it must be all thine own. The separate sentence each alone Must bear; to man, the hardier strife, The brunt of care, the toils of life, Allotted, his to fence around, To tame and reap the stubborn ground, That thine the sweetest fruits may be, And the wild desert smile for thee. But now 'tis past, the fear, the pain. That voice which erst the awful word No more to threaten or condemn, Who form'd thee, hath exalted thee. A Child is given, a Son is born, The Wonderful! Ah, wherefore mourn Thy painful doom, thy rending frame? Thrice blessed is the Mother's name; Thrice lovely does the Wife appear. Joy to my Friend! The grief is past, And oh, what notes of joy to thee, Shall be his infant melody! While love like vernal suns shall strengthen, And every day in brightness lengthen, Giving thee back for watchful night "An overpayment of delight." Joy to my Friend! And thou, dear Blossom! The first that hung upon her bosom, May choicest dews on thee descend, And Heaven thy infant sweets defend From blight or blast. Oh, may'st thou live Returns of perfume sweet to give ; Such fragrance as thy parent flowers Have long exhaled in Virtue's bowers. Live, all that Mother's love to share : To know the worth of each caress, And pay her back in happiness! Jan. 1814. TO MRS. TURNER, BERMUDA, WITH A COPY OF "THE ASSOCIATE MINSTRELS. By this, my friend, remember me, And those we both hold dear. Thy "Minstrel" friends will think of thee: When sets the day-star here, |