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Weep no more, my lady ; 0, weep no more
to-day ! We'll sing one song for my old Kentucky
home, For our old Kentucky home far away.
They hunt no more for the possum and the coon,
On the meadow, the hill, and the shore ; They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
On the bench by the old cabin door ; The day goes by, like a shadow o'er the heart,
With sorrow where all was delight; The time has come, when the darkeys have to part, Then, my old Kentucky home, good night!
Weep no more, my lady, &c. The head must bow, and the back will have to bend,
Wherever the darkey may go ; A few more days, and the troubles all will end,
In the field where the sugar-cane grow; A few more days to tote the weary load,
No matter it will never be light; A few more days till we totter on the road, Then, iny old Kentucky home, good night !
Weep no more, my lady, &c.
Would that breast were bared before thee
Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee
Which thou ne'er canst know again : Would that breast, by thee glanced over,
Every inmost thought could show ! Then thou wouldst at last discover
’T was not well to spurn it so. Though the world for this commend thee,
Though it smile upon the blow, Even its praises must offend thee,
Founded on another's woe :
Could no other arm be found
To inflict a cureless wound ?
Love may sink by slow decay, But by sudden wrench, believe not
Hearts can thus be torn away ; Still thine own its life retaineth,
Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And the undying thought which paineth
Is — that we no more may meet. These are words of deeper sorrow
Than the wail above the dead ;
Wake us from a widowed bed.
When our child's first accents flow,
“ Father!" Though his care she must forego ? When her little hands shall press thee,
When her lip to thine is pressed, Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee,
Think of him thy love had blessed ! Should her lineaments resemble
Those thou nevermore mayst see,
With a pulse yet true to me.
All my madness none can know ;
Wither, yet with thee they go. Every feeling hath been shaken ;
Pride which not a world could bow, Bows to thee, by thee forsaken,
Even my soul forsakes me now; But 't is done ; all words are idle,
Words from me are vainer still ; But the thoughts we cannot bridle
Force their way without the will.
Fare thee well ! thus disunited,
Torn from every nearer tie, Seared in heart, and lone, and blighted,
More than this I scarce can die.
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes, Now! if thou wouldst -- when all have given
him over — From death to life thou might'st him yet re
WHEN WE TWO PARTED.
When we two parted
FAREWELL. THOU ART TOO DEAR. FAREWELL! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate : The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting! And for that riches where is my deserving ! The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not
knowing, Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking; So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, Comes home again, on better judgment making.
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter; In sleep a king, but, waking, no such matter.
AN EARNEST SUIT
AND wilt thou leave me thus !
Say nay! say nay !
Say nay ! say nay !
Say nay! say nav!
SIR THOMAS WYAT.
COME, LET US KISSE AND PARTE. Since there's no helpe, — come, let us kisse and
parte, Nay, I have done, - you get no more of me; And I am glad, — yea, glad with all my hearte,
That thus so cleanly I myselfe can free. Shake hands forever! - cancel all our vows;
And when we meet at any time againe, Be it not seene in either of our brows,
That we one jot of former love retaine. Now at the last gaspe of Love's latest breath
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies;
PEACE! what can tears avail ?
THE DYING GERTRUDE TO WALDE
CLASP me a little longer on the brink Reply, reply !
Of fate! while I can feel thy dear caress ;
And when this heart hath ceased to beat, – 0, Hath she not dwelt too long
think, Midst pain, and grief, and wrong?
And let it mitigate thy woe's excess, Then why not die ?
That thou hast been to me all tenderness, Why suffer again her doom of sorrow,
And friend to more than human friendship just. And hopeless lie ?
Oh ! by that retrospect of happiness, Why nurse the trembling dream until to-morrow? And by the hopes of an immortal trust, Reply, reply!
God shall assuage thy pangs, when I am laid in
dust! Death! Take her to thine arms, In all her stainless charms !
Go, Henry, go not back, when I depart, And with her fly
The scene thy bursting tears too deep will move, To heavenly haunts, where, clad in brightness,
Where my dear father took thee to his heart,
And Gertrude thought it ecstasy to rove
Of peace, imagining her lot was cast
And must this parting be our very last ? Give me one look before my life be gone, No! I shall love thee still, when death itself is Oh ! give me that, and let me not despair, past.
One last fond look ! — and now repeat the
prayer.” Half could I bear, methinks, to leave this He had his wish, had more : I will not paint earth,
The lovers' meeting ; she beheld him faint, And thee, more loved than aught beneath the sun, With tender fears, she took a nearer view, If I had lived to smile but on the birth
Her terrors doubling as her hopes withdrew ; Of one dear pledge ; -- but shall there then be He tried to smile ; and, half succeeding, said, none,
“Yes! I must die" - and hope forever fledd. In future time, - no gentle little one,
Still long she nursed him ; tender thoughts To clasp thy neck, and look, resembling me?
meantime Yet seems it, even while life's last pulses run, Were interchanged, and hopes and views sublime. A sweetness in the cup of death to be,
To her he came to die, and every day
With him she prayed, to him his Bible read,
She came with smiles the hour of pain to cheer,
Apart she sighed ; alone, she shed the tear; Yes ! there are real mourners, — I have see Then, as if breaking from a cloud, she gave A fair sad girl, mild, suffering, and serene ; Fresh light, and gilt the prospect of the grave. Attention (through the day) her duties claimed, One day he lighter seemed, and they forgot And to be useful as resigned she aimed ; The care, the dread, the anguish of their lot ; Neatly she drest, nor vainly seemed t' expect They spoke with cheerfulness, and seemed to Pity for grief, or pardon for neglect ;
think, But when her wearied parents sunk to sleep,
Yet said not so — “Perhaps he will not sink." She sought her place to meditate and weep ; A sudden brightness in his look appeared, Then to her mind was all the past displayed, A sudden vigor in his voice was heard ; That faithful memory brings to sorrow's aid : She had been reading in the Book of Prayer, For then she thought on one regretted youth, And led him forth, and placed him in his chair; Her tender trust, and his unquestioned truth; Lively he seemed, and spake of all he knew, In every place she wandered, where they 'd been, The friendly many, and the favorite few; And sadly-sacred held the parting scene, Nor one that day did he to mind recall, Where last for sea he took his leave ; that place But she has treasured, and she loves them all ; With double interest would she nightly trace ! When in her way she meets them, they appear
Happy he sailed, and great the care she took, Peculiar people, — death has made them dear.
His messmates smiled at flushings on his cheek, For that she wrought, for that forsook her bed,
spare He called his friend, and prefaced with a sigh
The least assistance, - 't was her proper care. A lover's message, — "Thomas, I must die ; Here will she come, and on the grave will sit, Would I could see my Sally, and could rest Folding her arms, in long abstracted fit: My throbbing temples on her faithful breast, But if observer pass, will take her round, And gazing go ! - if not, this trifle take, And careless seem, for she would not be found ; And say, till death I wore it for her sake: Then go again, and thus her hours employ, Yes! I must die — blow on, sweet breeze, blow While visions please her, and while woes destrop.