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Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 1811-1896 [1841], Mark Meriden (Isaac H. Cady, Providence) [word count] [eaf382]. To look up a word in a dictionary, select the word with your mouse and press 'd' on your keyboard.
BY PARK BENJAMIN. Dost thou not turn, Fairest and sweetest, from the flowery way, On which thy feet are treading every day, And seek to learn Tidings, sometimes, of him who loved thee well— More than the pen can write or tongue can tell? Gaze not thine eyes (Oh, wild and lustrous eyes, ye were my fate!) Upon the lines he fashioned, not of late, But when the skies Of joy were over him, and he was blessed That he could sing of treasures he possessed? Treasures more dear Than gold in ingots or barbaric piles Of pearls and diamonds—thy most precious smiles! Bring, bring me here, Oh ruthless Time, some of those treasures now, And print a hundred wrinkles on my brow.
Make me grow old Before my years are many—take away Health, youth, ambition—let my strength decay, My mind be sold To be the slave of some strange, barren lore— Only those treasures to my heart restore! Ah, I implore A boon that cannot be, a blessing flown Unto a realm so distant from my own That, could I soar On eagle's wings, it still would be afar As if I strove by flight to reach a star! The future vast Before me lifts majestic steps on high, Which I must stand upon before I die; For, in the past Love buried lies; and nothing lives but Fame To speak unto the coming age, my race and name.
Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 1811-1896 [1841], Mark Meriden (Isaac H. Cady, Providence) [word count] [eaf382]. |