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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,

How much was then my own;
Endearing her for whom they fell,
And Thee, for having loved so well.

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;
We'll weep, when we must weep, together.

1815.

TO MRS. S. R. W.

My friend, the trying hour is past,
And o’er that fearful bridge at last

Thy trembling steps are safely led.

O Woman! in thy hour of dread,
That fond affection might but share
The ills thy gentle frame must bear;
Or, 'stead of thy'mysterious doom,
Might wrestle for thee with the tomb!

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.
My sister, hail to life again!

That voice which erst the awful word

Pronounced in Eden, now is heard
No more to threaten or condemn,
But speaking peace from Bethlehem.
Rejoice, O Nature, now that He
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;

And by that title doubly dear,
Thrice lovely does the Wife appear.

Joy to my Friend! The grief is past,
But joy, and hope, and love shall last.
Hopes, with the opening bud unfolding,
Shall spring and blossom in beholding ;
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, to repay a Mother's care :
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,

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