68
poems.
To greet the hero from the battle-field?
It was his only child,—she whose pure smile
First woke him to that gush of ecstasy,—
A father's priceless, unabated love,—
The bright, glad being who, in joy's gay hour,
As in the time of grief, had been with him,
To share his mirth or to assuage his wo.
It was his only child,—she whose pure smile
First woke him to that gush of ecstasy,—
A father's priceless, unabated love,—
The bright, glad being who, in joy's gay hour,
As in the time of grief, had been with him,
To share his mirth or to assuage his wo.
And shall it be? Must that young life-tide check
Its healthy gushings from the heart's deep fount?
Must that fond eye, so brightly turned on him,
That eye which beamed and shone for him alone,
Be closed in death and gloom; and must those lips
Which smiled upon him in their joyous mirth,
Which breathed devotion's purest offering,
And tuned their minstrelsy in holy songs
Of praise to God, be hushed in the cold tomb,
No more to cheer him with their radiant smile,
Or speak to him of bliss?
Its healthy gushings from the heart's deep fount?
Must that fond eye, so brightly turned on him,
That eye which beamed and shone for him alone,
Be closed in death and gloom; and must those lips
Which smiled upon him in their joyous mirth,
Which breathed devotion's purest offering,
And tuned their minstrelsy in holy songs
Of praise to God, be hushed in the cold tomb,
No more to cheer him with their radiant smile,
Or speak to him of bliss?
O! what was life,
What the proud consciousness of victory,
When thoughts of that bright being filled his soul?
The father's heart grew sick. There was no smile
Upon his lip, to greet his only child:
No voice of welcome issued from his mouth.
His brow was furrowed, and his cheek grew pale,
While the firm pressure of his fast-closed lip
Told but too well the conflict in his soul.
What the proud consciousness of victory,
When thoughts of that bright being filled his soul?
The father's heart grew sick. There was no smile
Upon his lip, to greet his only child:
No voice of welcome issued from his mouth.
His brow was furrowed, and his cheek grew pale,
While the firm pressure of his fast-closed lip
Told but too well the conflict in his soul.
A moment, and his lips broke forth in sounds
Of grief. He clasped her to his breast and said,
"My child, my only child, how have I loved
To gaze on thee, and think, that when the cares
Of grief. He clasped her to his breast and said,
"My child, my only child, how have I loved
To gaze on thee, and think, that when the cares
