Poems (Truesdell)/Lines on being shown a Tress of Hair
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LINES
ON BEING SHOWN A TRESS OF HAIR.
InSCEIBED TO MrS. A. SMALLEy, Of KENTUCKY.
This little tress of soft, fair hair,
I've kept for many years,
Embalmed it with a mother's love,
And watered it with tears.
I've kept for many years,
Embalmed it with a mother's love,
And watered it with tears.
With trembling hand I severed it
From off a brow so fair:—
Alas! of all so beautiful,
This death alone could spare
From off a brow so fair:—
Alas! of all so beautiful,
This death alone could spare
Unto my aching, frenzied sight!
Each tear I would repress:
But vain; for woman's grief breaks forth
In gushing tenderness.
Each tear I would repress:
But vain; for woman's grief breaks forth
In gushing tenderness.
A fragile plant to me was given;
I nurtured from its birth,
And watched to see my flower expand—
It blooms, but not on earth.
I nurtured from its birth,
And watched to see my flower expand—
It blooms, but not on earth.
I found it was not given to me—
To me 't was only lent;
And now, with heavenly choirs above,
My radiant flower is blent.
To me 't was only lent;
And now, with heavenly choirs above,
My radiant flower is blent.
Be still, be still, each murmuring thought;
Dost hear that music's flow?
More sweetly stealing o'er my soul
Than touch of lute-chords low.
Dost hear that music's flow?
More sweetly stealing o'er my soul
Than touch of lute-chords low.
It is my darling's voice I hear;
It thrills with rapture wild:
Fain would I break these bonds of clay,
To clasp my angel child.
It thrills with rapture wild:
Fain would I break these bonds of clay,
To clasp my angel child.
But I am earthly, earth's dark stain
Is on my spirit still:
Unmurmuringly I bow my head—
"My Father, 'tis thy will."
Is on my spirit still:
Unmurmuringly I bow my head—
"My Father, 'tis thy will."