Hannah Flagg Gould

“ I shall be glad of a home and a crumb,
When my frail form out of doors would be numb,
And I in the snow-storm should die.
Summer is lovely, but soon will be past.
Summer has plenty not always to last.
Summer's the time for the ant to make fast
Her stores for a future supply!"
The Rose-Bud of Autumn
Come out—pretty Rose-Bud,—my lone, timid one!
Come forth from thy green leaves, and peep at the sun!
For little he does, in these dull autumn hours,
At height'ning of beauty, or laughing with flowers. ”

“ Know’st thou, tender, beauteous boy,
What ’s thine errand—whence thy joy?
’T was thy name that Gabriel spoke,
By the altar, while the smoke
From thy father’s incense rolled,
When thy being was foretold!
Thou art come, the promised one,
As the dayspring to the sun,
[114] Soon to usher in new light
Through the realms of death and night!
Heavenly innocence is now
Marked upon thy peaceful brow:
God’s own Spirit filleth thee,
Sainted babe; for thou art he,
Who before the Lamb shall go,
Crying, that the world may know
He hath life to give the dead,
In the blood he comes to shed! ”

“ From back to breast, till, your fluttering done,
Your form may be fairly shown.
And when my point shall have reached your heart,
'T will be as a balm to the wounded part,
To think how you're to be copied by art,
And your beauty will all be known!"
The Stricken Bird
Here's the last food your poor mother can bring!
Take it, my suffering brood.
Oh! they have stricken me under the wing;
See, it is dripping with blood!
Fair was the morn, and I wished them to rise,
Enjoying its beauties with me.
The air was all fragrance—all splendor the skies,
While bright shone the earth and the sea. ”

“ From him who slumbers in the shroud,
As tremblingly they lift the pall,
The moon rends off her veil of cloud,
And o’er him lets her lustre fall.
[127]
She beams her silvery, soft adieu.
And is again in darkness hid;
As if affrighted, thus to view
The name on that dread coffin lid.
For ’t is her lover, now no more—
Her friend, whom they to dust consign!
And ne’er again is she to pour
Her light,—for eyes like his to shine.
’T is done,—the fearful, final rite,
Too sacred for the glare of day,
Has passed beneath the shadowy night—
Earth, earth has closed o’er Schiller’s clay! ”

“ Graceful gymnastics for stirring the blood
Without the gross purpose of use
Ant, let me tell you 'tis not
à la mode
To plod like a pilgrim, and carry a load,
Perverting the limbs that for grace were bestowed,
By such a plebeian abuse!
"While the whole world with provisions is filled,
Who would keep toiling and toiling, to build
And lay in a store for himself, till he's killed
With work that another might do?
Come! drop your budget, and just give a spring;
Jump on a grass-blade, and balance and swing;
Soon you'll be light as a gnat on the wing,
Gay as a grasshopper, too!" ”

“ When thy branches shoot and bloom
Through a Saviour’s broken tomb.
Trees, whereof the pilgrim weaves
For his crown the mingled leaves,
Wreaths of you are rich and bright;
Earth ’s the shade, and heaven ’s the light.
[194]
THE MUSHROOM’S SOLILOQUY.
O what, and whence am I, ’mid damps and dust,
And darkness, into sudden being thrust?
What was I yesterday? and what will be,
Perchance, to-morrow, seen or heard of me?
Poor, lone, unfriended, ignorant, forlorn,
To bear the new, full glory of the morn,
Beneath the garden wall I stand aside,
With all before me, beauty, show, and pride. ”

“ While hope gives a spur to my little black feet,
He'd never pity my lot!
He'd never ask me my burden to drop,
To join in his folly—to spring, and to hop;
And thus make the ant and her labor to stop,
When time, I am certain, would not.
"When the cold frost all the herbage has nipped,
When the bare branches with ice-drops are tipped,
Where will the grasshopper then be, that skipped
So careless and lightly to-day?
Frozen to death! '
a sad picture
,' indeed,
Of reckless indulgence and what must succeed,
That all his gymnastics can't shelter or feed,
Or quicken his pulse into play! ”

“ When thou first was snared and caught,
Never after to be free,
How thy mighty spirit wrought
In thee, like a troubled sea!
But thou didst not, couldst not think
Of the deep indignity,
To which thou then wast doomed to sink—
Of the exile thou must be.
Oh! that quenched and languid eye
Tells me of a pining heart:
Homesick prisoner, sooner die
Than remain the thing thou art.
Liberty to me and mine—
Liberty is life and breath!
So no less to thee and thine—
Bonds to both but lingering death.
[179]
THE TRAVELLER AT THE RED SEA.
At last have I found thee, thou dark, rolling sea! ”

“ Gladly would I feel assured that, in some future years,—when I shall have done with earthly flowers, and you will be engaged in the busy scenes and arduous duties of mature life,—the import of these leaves may from time to time arise to your memory, in all its dewy freshness, like the fragrance which the summer-breeze wafts after us, from the lilies and violets we have passed and left far behind us, in our morning rambles. ”

“ Break not the heart for another so warm,
Stopt in its pulse by a finger so cold.
Time ne’er shall whiten a lock of that hair,
Silken and full, round the forehead, that shines.
Age shall not come, nor the finger of care,
Marking that brow with their deep-going lines.
Ne’er will those lips be unsealed by the sigh:
Anguish will never that bosom invade:
Tears roll no more from that calm sleeping eye:
Peace o’er the clay her smooth mantle has laid.
Plant a young flower, in beauty to spread,
Tender and pure, where the dust shall repose. ”

“ A tune to the daylight humming;
And away she went o'er the sparkling dew,
Where the grass was green, the violet blue,
And the gold of the sun was coming.
And what first tempted the roving Bee,
Was a head of the crimson clover.
"I've found a treasure betimes!" said she,
"And perhaps a greater I might not see,
If I travelled the field all over.
"My beautiful Clover, so round and red,
There is not a thing in twenty,
That lifts this morning so sweet a head
Above its leaves, and its earthy bed,
With so many horns of plenty!" ”

“ That Egypt’s proud army, unstained by their blood,
Received on thy bed, to entomb in thy flood.
I cast my eye out, where the cohorts went down:
A throng of pale spectres, no waters can drown,
With banner and blades, seem to rise on the waves,
As Pharaoh’s bold hosts rushed in arms to their graves.
But quick from the light of the skies they withdraw,
At silent Omnipotence shrinking with awe;
And each sinks away in his billowy shroud,
From him who walked here, clothed in fire and a cloud.
I stand by the pass, the freed Hebrews then trod,
Sustained by the hand of Jehovah, dry-shod ”

“ Soon as the frost will get off from my bed,
From this cold dungeon to free me,
I will peer up, with my bright little head;
All will be joyful to see me!
Then from my heart will young petals diverge,
Like rays of the sun from their focus;
When I from the darkness of earth shall emerge,
All complete, as a beautiful CROCUS!
Gayly arrayed in gold, crimson, and green,
When to their view I have risen;
Will they not wonder how one so serene
Came from so dismal a prison? ”

“ As after evening showers, the morn’s clear beams
Show diamonds hung on grass, and flower and leaf.
Upright and firm, as were the patriot souls,
That from thy native spot arose to God,
Stand thou and hold, long as our planet rolls,
This last high place by Freedom’s martyrs trod.
Let thy majestic shadow walk the ground,
Calm as the sun, and constant as his light;
And by the moon, amid the dews, be found
The sentinel, who guards it through the night.
And may the air around thee ever be
To heaven-born Liberty as vital breath ”

“ Said William to George, "It is New-Year's day!
And now for the pond and the merriest play!
So, on with your cap; and away, away,
We'll off for a frolic and slide,
Be quick—be quick, if you would not be chid
For doing what father and mother forbid;
And under your coat let the skates be hid;
Then over the ice we'll glide."
They're up, and they're off; on their run-away feet
They fasten the skates, when, away they fleet,
Far over the pond, and beyond retreat,
Unconscious of danger near.
But lo! the ice is beginning to bend—
It cracks—it cracks—and their feet descend! ”

“ That beams on the board where in joy we unite:
And the sparks, which we take to enkindle our mirth,
Are blessings from heaven showering down on the earth.
And now that we meet, and the chain is of flowers,
Which binds us together, may sadness ne’er blight them,
Till those, who must break from a compact like ours,
Ascend where the ties of the blest reunite them!
[226] May each, who is here,
At the banquet appear,
Where Life fills the wine-cup, and Love makes it clear;
And Gilead’s balm in its freshness shall flow
On the wounds, which the pruning-knife gave us below! ”

“ In dust, where as pebbles they lie,
I seek the rich pearl, that is shedding
Its lustre so pure from on high.
[30]
For pains my torn spirit is feeling,
No balsam from earth it receives:
I go to the tree, that hath healing
To drop on my wounds from its leaves.
A child that is weary with roaming,
Returning in gladness to see
A home and a parent, I ’m coming—
My Father, I hasten to thee!
[31]
THE RISING MONUMENT.
Rise in thy solemn grandeur, calm and slow,
As well befits thy purpose and thy place:
Great Speaker! rise, not suddenly, to show
The earth forever sacred at thy base. ”

“ On light little wings, as the humming-birds fly,
With plumes many-hued as the bow of the sky,
Suspended in ether, they shine in the light,
As jewels of nature, high-finished and bright.
Their delicate forms are so buoyant and small,
They hang o’er the flowers, as too airy to fall,
Upborne on their beautiful pinions, that seem
Like glittering vapor, or parts of a dream.
The humming-bird feeds upon honey, and so,
Of course, ’t is a sweet little creature, you know:
But sweet little creatures have sometimes, they say,
A great deal that ’s bitter or sour to betray. ”