________________________________________________
Title: The Sister's Lament
Author: Sarah S. Mower [
More Titles by Mower]
THE SISTER'S LAMENT
LINES SUGGESTED BY THE DEATH OF E. TORRY, OF PORTLAND
Oh, Edward, dear Edward! how precious that sound,
I seek for an equal--it cannot be found;
In tones soft and pensive it visits my ear,--
I fain would believe thou art hovering near.
Since thy happy spirit to heaven has fled,
Art thou with me by day, by night round my bed?
I visit thy grave and bedew it with tears,
To share in my sorrow, no Edward appears.
On earth 't was thy pleasure to soothe all my grief,
To wipe off my tears and to bring me relief;
Thy heart's warm affections were lavished on me,
I've spent happy moments conversing with thee.
My counselor, playmate, my guide, and my friend,
On whom I might always in safety depend,
In paths of fair virtue my feet thou hast led,
Where vice, that foul monster, dares not show his head.
Nor was all thy kindness bestowed upon one;
Thou wast an affectionate, dutiful son;
Thy dear honored parents drank deep of thy love,
None ever shared more but thy Father above.
Thy father now sinks 'neath a burden of woe,
His once brilliant eyes now with tears overflow;
Thy mother sits weeping, thy fond brothers sigh,
The dear little children cease playing and cry.
Fair nature is wearing a mantle of gloom,
Deep sorrow sits brooding all round our sweet home;
The soft venial zephyrs come sighing along,
The streamlets are murm'ring a sad, mournful song.
The gray twilight shades come attended with gloom,
While like a dark pall they encircle thy tomb;
When soft showers descend, something whispers to me,
That tears from the clouds are descending for thee.
No star spangled heavens nor cool shady bowers,
No deep ancient forest or fair fragrant flowers
Can fill up the void that I feel in my breast,
Although thou art tuning thy harp with the blest.
In dreams I behold thee when I am asleep,
It cheers up my spirits and I cease to weep;
Enshrined in my heart thy fair image shall dwell,
I'll keep it there always, I love it so well.
[The end]
Sarah S. Mower's Poem: Sister's Lament
________________________________________________
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
