Lydia Sigourney

“ And deadly pale, pity and love sprang up
In her kind bosom, and she took the boy
To her own palace-home. Yet still he wept,
Like an affrighted stranger.
Then she bade
To call a nurse; and lo! the mother came!
She, who had sown in tears, did reap in joy.
—And when she drew her nursling to her breast,
And fondly lull'd him to a gentle sleep,
Know ye how warm the thrill of praise went up
Unto the God of Israel?
—So, this babe
Of the poor Hebrew, 'neath the royal dome
Of Egypt's monarch grew,—in all the lore
Of that wise realm instructed. ”

“ For he thought 'twas the step of that master dear,
Returning from the dead.
And sometimes, when a storm drew nigh,
And the clouds were dark and fleet,
He tore the turf with a mournful cry,
As if he would force his way, or die,
To his much lov'd master's feet.
So, there through the summer's heat he lay,
Till autumn nights were bleak;
Till his eye grew dim with his hope's decay,
And he pin'd, and pin'd, and wasted away,
A skeleton gaunt and weak. ”

“ Good night, good night:—may Heaven repay
My parents love to me, this day.
Sisters and brothers,—here's my kiss,—
Sweet sleep be yours and dreams of bliss,
Friends one and all, with smile so bright,
And little baby dear,—good night. ”

“ For your bosom and hair,
'T is the pencil of Heaven
That hath dy'd them so fair.
How thick the young violets
Spring up at our feet;
Let us love the kind hand
That hath made them so sweet.
Is it time for our school? ”

“ Our steps in paths of peace,
Ye ne'er shall be by us forgot,
Till life and memory cease;
But daily, when we kneel in prayer,
We 'll ask of Him above,
To shed his blessing on your souls
For all your deeds of love. ”

“ On a Child of two and a half years old, who wiped the tears of his Father with his dying hand.
Pale was the little polish'd brow
That lately bloomed so fair,
And speechless lay the baby-boy,
His parents' pride and care.
The struggle and the fever-pang
That shook his frame were past,
And there, with fix'd and wishful glance
He lay,—to breathe his last. ”

“ Its awful voice I hear,
But still thy sweetly murmur'd tone
Is closer in mine ear.
And thus through every change of time
Thy mother's love must be,
My little son, my only one,
God give his grace to thee. ”

“ Their covering o'er the dead,
That slept below.
So to the ark she fled,
With weary, drooping head,
To seek for rest;
Christ is thy ark, my love,
Thou art the timid dove,—
Fly to his breast. ”

“ When the last form that linger'd near,
My tender mother, ever dear,
Hath left her kiss, and breath'd her prayer,
And in sweet rest resign'd her care:
Still One, whose eye can never sleep,
Around my bed his watch doth keep. ”

“ That fades away so fast,
But by the color of the soul,
We shall be judg'd at last.
And God, the Judge, will look at me
With anger in his eyes,
If I, my brother's darker brow
Should ever dare despise. ”

“ For your own winter store,
For Summer wears a fleeting smile,
And Autumn's at the door."
"Good bye," the Butterfly rejoin'd,
"You've grown a mope, I see,
There's nothing hurts a brilliant mind,
Like stupid industry." ”

“ For Him whom weeping Mary sought
And found an empty tomb;
Still in our hearts the plants of love
A living stream should share,
Which flowing from his Holy Word
Shall keep them fresh and fair. ”

“ Born in tangled dells obscure,
Yet a microscope would show
Colours like the showery bow,
Hidden cells, where pure and free
Springs the nectar for the bee,
Graceful forms and radiant dye
From the pencil of the sky. ”

“ Amid a blessed throng,
He warbles to his Saviour's ear
The everlasting song,—
No more we'll mourn our buried friend,
But lift the ardent prayer,
And every wish and effort bend
To rise and join him there. ”

“ And guards the sparrow's lot,
Shall our petitions be unheard?
Our sorrowing sighs forgot?
Consider how the lilies grow,
The young birds safely rove,
Nor fear in every time of wo
To trust your Maker's love. ”

“ As a bird can be;
Gazing all day
At your friends that fly,
Singing so gaily,
From earth to sky.
The bright butterflies,
And the beetles and bees,
Spread forth their light wings,
And sport where they please. ”

“ TO A LITTLE GIRL WHO HAD LOST HER MOTHER.
We love the flower that decks the spray,
And brightens through the summer-day,
We praise the fruit, whose ripening hue
Of gold or crimson meets our view ”

“ The eye to sparkle, and the blood to flow?
Who grants the day of health, the night of rest,
Strength to thy limbs, and comfort in thy breast?
Who marks with kindest care thy daily lot?
Whose arm sustains thee though thou seest it not? ”

“ The risks the intemperate run,
For there was danger lest the soul
Be evermore undone.
Water is very pure and sweet,
And beautiful to see,
And since it cannot do us harm,
It is the drink for me. ”

“ Little Girl two years old, to a little Boy on his removal to New-York.
You go, I'm told,
This winter cold,
A journey, sir,
Pray shun the blast,
And travel fast,
Wrap'd close in fur.
I'm sorry too,
To part with you,
Your courteous care
At infant school,
Next summer cool,
I hop'd to share.
My wish to go,
I do not know
But they'll refuse,
Is it not shame
My age should claim
No right to choose? ”

“ Those widowed ones deplore;
And children for their father mourn,
Who must return no more.
And aged parents sink
In penury and despair,
And sorrow dwells in many a home,—
War makes the weeping there. ”

“ On glorious wing did soar,
Where pain that made his cheek so pale
Can never vex him more.
He hath a happy cherub's smile,
He hath a robe of white,
He gathers ever-blooming flowers,
Which no cold storm may blight. ”

“ With this sweet book about the Soul.
'Tis written by a learned man,
And though the size is small,
Its subject is a boundless one,
And much concerns us all,
Because the soul can ne'er decay,
When this frail body fades away. ”

“ Child of sixteen months old to a Cousin in Boston.
My Cousin, dear,
I almost fear
To write to you;
So rare your wit
'T is surely fit,
My words be few.
Your native coast
Has much to boast
Of glorious name;
Both ancient lore
And modern store
Uphold its fame.
Your'e proud, I fear,
In Boston, dear;
I wish you would
Just come and share
Our country fare,
T' would do you good.
Our rustic ways
And boisterous plays
Perhaps might fright you ”

“ Children, I'll tell a story of the sea,
And Him who walk'd upon it.
It was night,
Dark night, and the loud winds howl'd fearfully
Along the madden'd billows. O'er these waves
In all their pride and anger, Jesus came. ”

“ She taught them all like herself to toil,
Nor mind the sneer of pride,—
And I thought, as I sat at the close of day,
Eating my bread and milk,
It was wiser to work and improve my time,
Than be idle and dress in silk. ”

“ Beheld the homeless one with hate,
And Rome, with haughty mockery ey'd
The Man of grief, the crucified.—
—But they, the innocent, the blest,
In childhood's meekness, sought his breast,
Their little feet without a guide
Came thronging to his peaceful side,
And tho' the cold and stern command
Bade them at greater distance stand,
Yet strengthen'd by his cheering smile,
They gather'd to his arms the while,
And 'mid his bosom's holy shade
Their beauteous heads, confiding laid.
—Children! even now that heavenly Friend
Doth to your weakness condescend ”

“ There was a king of Egypt, and he made
A cruel law, that every infant son
Born to the Hebrew race, throughout his realm,
Should be destroyed. Think! what a cruel law,
That those sweet, sinless infants should be slain. ”

“ Each Scripture-lesson prize,
And grant thy wisdom to discern
Whate'er in darkness lies.
Short is the time we here may pass,
And life is transient too,
Like the brief flowret of the grass,
Or like the morning dew. ”

“ A very young and lovely child in New-York, was found in prayer by her bed-side, for her little sick cousin. She was not able to say plainly, Elizabeth, which was the name of her dear playmate. So her prayer was, "please God, let Lilly live."
These two sweet children died within a short time of each other, of the same disease. It was the will of their Father in heaven, that they should live together with him. ”

“ She loves me all the day,
And she has patience with my faults,
And teaches me to pray;
How much I'll strive to please her,
She every hour shall see,
For should she go away, or die,
What would become of me? ”

“ Lost to a mother's pillowing breast,
The snow-wreath marks her bed,
Her polish'd cheek in earth must rest,—
Your sweetest one is dead.
Returning spring, the birds will call
Their happy task to take ”

“ Baby's note to a Baby, with a pair of coral bracelets.
Dear little Ann,
I hope you can
These bracelets wear.
And that you will
Remember still
Whose gift they are.
They're very plain,
For to be vain
I don't approve,
Proud babies sure
Few could endure,
And fewer love. ”

“ And chain its rage,
Or nobly write
Your name like Dwight,
On Heaven's own page.
Our sex I'm told
Are formed to hold
A lower place,
Our powers of mind
Being far behind
Your lordly race. ”

“ But one fond mother hid her babe away,
So that they might not find him, and she went
Silent, and gave him food; and when he cried
She softly hush'd him, lest his voice should lead
The murderers to their prey. ”

“ And then he turn'd away, and sobb'd
As though his heart would break.
Brothers and sisters are a gift
Of mercy from the skies,
And may I always think of this
Whene'er they meet my eyes.
Be tender, good and kind. ”

“ Close in my breast,
Don't you think, John,
To act upon
His plan is best?
If chains that bind
The free-born mind
Make men rebel,
Can strict restraint
On all complaint
Please babies well? ”