I think of thee oft when enlivened by pleasure

And banish each thought that would end my recall.

But I think of thee most when I find that rare treasure,

The proof of true sympathy dearer than all.

 

This world is not all a fleeting show,

For man’s illusion given,

He that hath soothed a widow’s woe;

Or wiped the orphan’s tear doth know,

There’s something here of heaven.

 

And he that walks life’s narrow way

With feelings calm as even,

Whose path is light from day to day,

By virtue’s bright and steady ray

Hath something felt of Heaven.

 

He that the Christian’s course has run

And all his foes forgiven;

Who measures out life’s little span

In love to God, in love to man,

On earth hath tasted Heaven.

 

Brockfield                     February 27

                                    Fanny Latimer


 

 

 

 

 

 

Sonnet

 

When glowing Phoebus quits the weeping earth,

What splendid visions rise upon the sight!

Fancy, with transient charms and colors bright,

To changing forms in Heaven’s gay scene gives birth.

But soon the melting beauties disappear,

And fade like those which in life’s early bloom

Hope bade me prize; and the approaching gloom

These tints of sadness and these shades of fear

Assemble must that melancholy hour

Which with a silent and resistless power

Shrouded my joy’s bright beam in shadowy night:

Til memory marks each scene which once shown gay.

As the dark plains, beneath the moon’s soft light

Again revealed, reflect as mellowing ray.

 

                                                            J. R.

Psyche

The Keep sake

 

Oh knowest thou why, to distance driven,

When friendship weeps the parting hour,

The simplest gift, that moment given

Long, long retains its magic power?

 

Still when it meets the musing view

Can half the theft of time retrieve,

The scenes of former bliss renew

And bid each fond idea live.

 

It boots not if the pencil’d rose

Or severed ringlet meet the eye—

Or Indies’ sparkling gems enclose

The talisman of sympathy;

 

Keep it, yes keep it for my sake.

O’er fancy’s ear still peals the sound

Nor time the patient charm shall break

Nor loose the spell by Nature bound.

 

                                                Laura Ransom

Montville May 5th  1833


  

 

 

The world’s most royal heritage is his

Who most enjoys, most loves, and most forgives.


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