Poems (Edwards)/The Phases of Woman's Life
THE PHASES OF WOMAN'S LIFE.
I saw her in the morn of life, A gay and happy child,Her voice was like the Mock-bird's song, Her laugh was free and wild;Joy sparkled from her dark blue eyes, And on her forehead white,Her golden locks in ringlets fell, All gracefully and bright.
I saw her when a lovely girl, Just sixteen years had castTheir smiles and hopes upon her face, Since I beheld her last;She was a gentle creature then, Her voice still free and wild,As when [ heard it long ago, When she was but a child.
I saw her when her girlish glee, Had changed to maiden pride;A noble, good, and generous youth Was sitting by her side;And softly as he breathed"to her Love's fond and gentle vow,I saw the shadow of a shade Steal lightly o'er her brow.
I saw her when, a blooming bride, She, at the altar stood,Her smiles were beaming through her tears, Like sunbeams through a cloud;I saw her from the altar turn, Her cheek was passing fair,White as the glittering orange wreath, That bound her sunny hair;Her brow was calm, and from her heart There came a smothered sigh,Like ripples on a sleeping lake, When night winds sweep them by.
I saw her when a lovely wife, In all her beauteous bloom,She was the blossom and the light, The sunbeam of her home;Her step was light, her smile was bright, Her voice still free and wild,As when I looked upon her first, When she was but a child.
I saw her when a mother's joy Was beaming from her eye,When love and care a garland bound Upon her forehead high;A lovely boy was by her side, And one was on her knee;They gazed upon her smiling face, And clapped their hands with glee.
I saw her when she sadly knelt Beside a couch of death,And watched with all a mother's fears Her darling infant's breath.
She laid her hand in tenderness Upon the loved one's head,Then turned aside in agony,— Her darling boy was dead.
I saw her when, with weeping eyes, She o'er her husband bent,As swiftly from his heaving breast The hot breath came and went;The tell-tale pulse had ceased to beat, The warm heart ceased to thrill;She knelt in prayer and murmured low, It is my Father's will.He died, as summer flowerets die, Scarce conscious of decay,Like the last lingering light that gilds The clouds at close of day.
I saw her when they laid her down Upon the silent bier,And many heaved the throbbing sigh, And shed the bitter tear; Low in the silent dust she sleeps, Free from all toil and strife,Till, startled from her dreamless rest, She wakes to endless life.