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ON THE DEATH OF A YOUTH.
We had hopes it was pleasure to nourish
(Then how shall our sorrow be mute ?)
That those bright buds of genius would flourish,
And burst into blossoms and fruit.
(Then how shall our sorrow be mute ?)
That those bright buds of genius would flourish,
And burst into blossoms and fruit.
But our hopes and our prospects are shaded,
For the plant which inspired them hath shed
Its foliage all green and unladed,
Ere the beauty of spring-time hath fled.
For the plant which inspired them hath shed
Its foliage all green and unladed,
Ere the beauty of spring-time hath fled.
Like the foam on the crest of the billow,
Which sparkles and sinks from the sight,
Like the leaf of the wind-shaken willow,
Though transiently, beauleously bright;
Which sparkles and sinks from the sight,
Like the leaf of the wind-shaken willow,
Though transiently, beauleously bright;
Like dewdrops, exhaled as they glisten,
Like perfume, which dies soon as shed;
Like melody, hush'd while we listen,
Is memory's dream of the dead.
Bernard Barton.
Like perfume, which dies soon as shed;
Like melody, hush'd while we listen,
Is memory's dream of the dead.
Bernard Barton.
The following is supposed to have been written by Emmett, after he was sentenced to death.
TO MY COUNTRY.
When he who adores thee has left but the name,
Of his faults and his sorrows behind,
Oh! say, wilt thou weep when they darken the lame,
Of a life that for thee was resign'd?
Of his faults and his sorrows behind,
Oh! say, wilt thou weep when they darken the lame,
Of a life that for thee was resign'd?
