Maggie

“ But I with the “voiceless” will rest in a grave
Where no flowers will bloom, only willows will wave.
And alas! I will live unloved and unsung,
With fire on my heart, but not on my tongue,
Whose cold faltering tones have no power to give
Life to the thought’s that unceasingly strive
To mount up to the throne of the God they adore,
In the halls of His beauty their melody pour—
Not on earth, not on earth will this joy be mine,
But when in the halls of the City divine,
Where myrtle and roses immortal entwine,
My glorified spirit in beauty will shine. ”

“ It would not be of love that my spirits would tell,
For nothing I know of its mystical spell.
Love a passion for beauty in its varied form,
From the blush of a rose to the pomp of a storm,
Of Posey’s voice that fair angels inspire
When they touch mortal lips with hallowing fire,
As I’d sing to the stars in their fair azure home,
Or talk to the waves with their mounting of foam,
Or commune with the Alps in their garments of blue,
So my spirit would gladly hold converse with you ”

“ When the warrior’s gear shall no longer be worn—
May your genius, so rich and so rare in its song,
The lives of our heroes forever prolong,
And your garlands of verse bloom bright o’er their grave,
Their honor to keep, and their memory to save. ”