WASHINGTON'S STATUE. SENT FROM ENGLAND TO AMERICA. YES! rear thy guardian hero's form There, as before a shrine, to bow, The spirit rear'd in patriot fight, The virtue born of home and hearth, And let that work of England's hand, Such, through all time, the greetings be, That with the Atlantic billow sweep! Telling the mighty and the free Of brothers o'er the deep. TO THE MEMORY OF A SISTER-IN-LAW. 161 A THOUGHT OF HOME AT SEA. WRITTEN FOR MUSIC. 'Tis lone on the waters When eve's mournfull bell Sends forth to the sunset When, borne with the shadows When the wing of the sea-bird And the thought of the sailor 'Tis lone on the waters- TO THE MEMORY OF A SISTER-IN-LAW. WE miss thy voice while early flowers are blowing, And the first flush of blossom clothes each bough, And the Spring sunshine round our home is glowing Soft as thy smile. Thou should'st be with us now. With us? we wrong thee by the earthly thought. Could our fond gaze but follow where thou art, Well might the glories of this world seem nought To the one promise given the pure in heart. Yet wert thou blest e'en here-oh! ever blest So is it seal'd to peace!-on thy clear brow Farewell! thy life hath left surviving love A wealth of records, and sweet "feelings given," From sorrow's heart the faintness to remove, By whispers breathing "less of earth than heaven." Thus rests thy spirit still on those with whom Where chasten'd thought may offer praise to God. 'Alluding to the lines she herself quoted but an hour before her death: : "Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven." TO AN ORPHAN. 163 TO AN ORPHAN. THOU hast been rear'd too tenderly, Watch'd by too many a gentle eye- Too quiet seem'd thy joys for change, Bright clouds, through summer skies that range, To sleep in silvery stillness bound, This world hath no more love to give But oh! too beautiful and blest Thy home of youth hath been! Kind voices from departed years Must haunt thee many a day; Looks that will smite the source of tears, Friends-now the altered or the dead, A gladness o'er thy dreams will shed, Alone! it is in that deep word How is the heart to courage stirr'd And are these lost?-and have I said Thou reed! o'er which the storm hath pass'd- On one, one friend thy weakness cast- HYMN BY THE SICKBED OF A MOTHER. FATHER! that in the olive shade O! by the anguish of that night, Or to the chasten'd, let thy might |