Enter a name, company, place or keywords to search across this item. Then click "Search" (or hit Enter).
Volume 3 (1858-1859) (592 pages)

Copy the Page Text to the Clipboard

Show the Page Image

Show the Image Page Text


More Information About this Image

Get a Citation for Page or Image - Copy to the Clipboard

Go to the Previous Page (or Left Arrow key)

Go to the Next Page (or Right Arrow key)
Page: of 592

SORROW AND HOPE. 237
SORROW AND HOPE,
Suggested during a Visit to Lone Mountain Cemetery.
BY LIONEL,
Ah, tell me not that Memory
Sheds gladness o’er the Past:
What is recail’d by faded flovers—
Saye, that they do not last ?—Muiss Lanpon.
I stray’d where the loved and lamented are sleeping,
At Ey’ning, as sunset was gilding the wave,
While near, for her lost one, a Sister was weeping —
Affection’s last tribute to Worth’s early Grave.
“ Rest, Brother ’’— she whisper’d,—“and peace to thy slumber,
And light lay the earth on thy mouldering breast;
For never again wilt thou gladden our number,
Until we unite in the Realms of the Blest.”
Like low-murmur’d music from Sorrow’s lute sighing,
Her prayer seem’d the cadence of Love’s melody ;
As sad as the moaning of wave-echoes dying
At night, when she crescent moon silvers the sea:
Her look, so serene and replete with devotion,
Awoke to Remembrance the treasures of yore;
My heart caught the light of congenial emotion,
And wept o’er the Friendships that cheer me no more.
Thou beautiful Mourner! the spring’s fairest blossom
Can never compare with the wealth of thy charms;
Thrice happy his fate—the endeared of thy bosom—
When weary and faint, to fade out in those arms!
Repine, then, no longer—let hopes of the morrow
Dispel all thy sadness in seasons like this ;
Yet oh, thou art lovelier now, veil’d in sorrow,
Than ever shone Beauty in moments of bliss.
When lone in the valley this form is reposing,
And every fond trace of my name disappears,
Should some faithful Friend, when the twilight is closing,
Bemoisten the spot with the dew of her tears—
Methinks, that my Spirit around her would hover,
Unheedful of woes intertwining its lot;
And there, while the shadows of night floated over,
The Grave, and its coldness al.ke, were forgot.
San Francisco, Oct. 1858,