Frances Sargent Osgood

“ Clings to his side in his wintry despair;
Wild blows the bleak wind around the lone stranger,
Drear drifts the snow in his thin waving hair.
Hunger and age, they have done their work drearily,
Yet is the forest tree grand in its fall ”

“ I know a noble heart that beats
For one it loves how "wildly well!"
I only know for whom it beats;
But I must never tell!
Never tell!
Hush! hark! how Echo soft repeats,--
Ah! never tell!
I know a voice that falters low,
Whene'er one little name 't would say ”

“ Alas! the garland's light will die
Beneath a colder critic's eye!
His soft wings fanned ye into bloom;
How will ye bear a ruder breath?
Ah! wintry-wind and tempest-gloom
Will chill your light leaves unto death! ”

“ Whose light is the clearest, the truest to thee,
When the "night-time of sorrow" steals o'er life's sea:
Oh! trust thy rich bark, where its warm rays are,
Call me pet names, dearest! Call me thy star! ”

“ For changeful things, like flowers, methinks;
The wayward rose-leaves, one by one,
Uncurl'd and look'd up to the sun,
With their sweet flushes fainter growing,
I could not keep my bud from blowing! ”

“ Ah! no! if I could keep
Thy alter'd heart from care, love,
And charm its griefs to sleep,
Mine only should despair, love,
I -- I alone would weep!
I -- I alone would mourn the flowers
That fade in Love's deserted bowers!
This work was published before January 1, 1928, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. ”

“ Labor is rest—from the sorrows that greet us;
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us.
Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us.
Rest from world-sirens that lead us to ill.
Work,—and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow;
Work,—thou shalt ride o’er care’s coming billow ”