The Mourner's Chaplet: An Offering of Sympathy for Bereaved Friends. Selected from American PoetsGould, Kendall & Lincoln, 1844 - 120 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 28
Page 20
... round my study chair ; Yet , when my eyes , now dim With tears , I turn to him , The vision vanishes - he is not there ! I walk my parlor floor , And , through the open door , I hear a footfall on the chamber stair ; I'm stepping toward ...
... round my study chair ; Yet , when my eyes , now dim With tears , I turn to him , The vision vanishes - he is not there ! I walk my parlor floor , And , through the open door , I hear a footfall on the chamber stair ; I'm stepping toward ...
Page 27
... In every scene to memory dear I see thee still . In I see thee still , every hallowed token round ; This little ring thy finger bound , This lock of hair thy forehead shaded , This silken THE MOURNER'S CHAPLET . 27 see thee still, Sprague,
... In every scene to memory dear I see thee still . In I see thee still , every hallowed token round ; This little ring thy finger bound , This lock of hair thy forehead shaded , This silken THE MOURNER'S CHAPLET . 27 see thee still, Sprague,
Page 37
... round thy lonely tomb . Fond hearts were beating high , Fond eyes were watching for the loved one gone , And gentle voices , deeming thou wert nigh , Talked of thy glad return . They watched - not all in vain- Thy form once more the ...
... round thy lonely tomb . Fond hearts were beating high , Fond eyes were watching for the loved one gone , And gentle voices , deeming thou wert nigh , Talked of thy glad return . They watched - not all in vain- Thy form once more the ...
Page 38
... Round the low porch and mossy cottage - eaves ; O , Spring hath fairy treasures in her keeping , And lovely are the landscapes that she weaves : ' Tis naught to me , my child ! Down the green lane come peals of heartfelt laugh- ter ...
... Round the low porch and mossy cottage - eaves ; O , Spring hath fairy treasures in her keeping , And lovely are the landscapes that she weaves : ' Tis naught to me , my child ! Down the green lane come peals of heartfelt laugh- ter ...
Page 42
... round their darkened hearth , Give to her smileless lip its wonted mirth , Relume her dark eyes ' faded lustre - throw Religion's light around her shadowed brow . The promise of their sure reunion speak , And dry the tear that channels ...
... round their darkened hearth , Give to her smileless lip its wonted mirth , Relume her dark eyes ' faded lustre - throw Religion's light around her shadowed brow . The promise of their sure reunion speak , And dry the tear that channels ...
Common terms and phrases
angel ANNA CORA MOWATT beauty BEREAVED bitter blessed blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath breeze bright brow budding graces calm charm cheek cherub child clasped cold dark dark at noon dead dear death death angelic dreams dust earth EARTH'S CHILDREN faded fair fair brow feel flowers fond forever gazed gentle gloom gone grave grief happy hath hear heart heaven heavenly holy hope hour infant land art life's light lips live lone look memory mother mourn N. P. WILLIS ne'er never nevermore o'er pale passed peace pillow prayer pure rest rocky steps rose round seraph shed shining sigh silent sing sister skies sleep slumber smile soft sorrow soul spirit spring stars strange angelic sweet tears tender thee thine eye thou art thought tomb tone vision voice wake watched wave weary weep wild WILLIAM LEGGETT wings young
Popular passages
Page 25 - And with them the Being Beauteous Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep Comes that messenger divine, Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies.
Page 61 - He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. My Lord has need of these flowerets gay, The Reaper said, and smiled : Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child.
Page 24 - When the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight...
Page 61 - Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child. 'They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by my care, And saints, upon their garments white, These sacred blossoms wear.
Page 50 - MOTHER, how still the baby lies ! I cannot hear his breath ; I cannot see his laughing eyes — They tell me this is death. My little work I thought to bring, And sat down by his bed, And pleasantly I tried to sing — They hushed me — he is dead. They say that he again will rise, More beautiful than now ; That God will bless him in the skies — 0, mother, tell me how...
Page 51 - O, yes, mamma ! how very gay Its wings of starry gold ! And see ! it lightly flies away Beyond my gentle hold. O, mother, now I know full well, If God that worm can change, And draw it from this broken cell, On golden wings to range, — How beautiful will brother be, When God shall give him wings, Above this dying world to flee, And live with heavenly things !
Page 20 - I cannot make him dead ! His fair sunshiny head Is ever bounding round my study chair ; Yet when my eyes, now dim With tears, I turn to him, The vision vanishes — he is not there...
Page 60 - I have nought that is fair?" saith he ; " Have nought but the bearded grain ? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again.
Page 83 - Should the .visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye, Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret " Look aloft " to the sun that is never to set. Should they who are dearest, the son of thy heart, The wife of thy bosom, in sorrow depart, "Look aloft" from the darkness and dust of the tomb, To that soil where
Page 20 - Closed are his eyes; cold is his forehead fair; My hand that marble felt; O'er it in prayer I knelt; Yet my heart whispers that — he is not there ! I cannot make him dead!