Poems (Schiller)/Verses

by Rebecca Jane Schiller

For works with similar titles, see Verses.

VERSES

To G. R. B.—
Thou art not forgotten; if my prayers could win
Thee exemption from sorrow, could free thee from sin
 Thy life would lead high:
May it lead so—high over all ills that beset thee,
High over all care that has power to fret thee,
 And enter God's sky.
Christmas, 1881.

What loves, what griefs, what hopes and fears,
We two have shared in by-gone years!
Hearts tried like ours time cannot sever,
This gift and I are thine forever.
Christmas, 1881.

Accept this little jar, 'tis thine
Because no jar did e'er incline
 Our hearts apart;
Fill it with flowers or golden cream,
Or any sweet thing you may deem
 Worthy its art.
Christmas, 1881.

When thy fair hands these vases fill
With blooms, may memory distill
From out the past some thought of me,
Fragrant and pure as flowers be.
Christmas, 1881.

We scarce have met; and yet between
God's children here on earth, I ween,
There is a tie that may excuse
The seeming freedom of my Muse
 In thus addressing thee.
Accept this cup; and were it filled
With choicest things of life distilled
 I better pleased would be.
Christmas, 1881.

I command thee, friend of mine,
Every day to drink thy tea
From this cup which now is thine;
Thus it may remind of me.
Christmas, 1881.

My o'ertasked Muse is dumb; or I would send
 Some charming verse to thee;
So take this cup; it and my love may lend
 New comfort to thy tea.
Christmas, 1881.

Linnie Hess, can you guess
Who sends this with a kiss?
It is I, my little friend;
In return I pray you send
 Each December
One thought after me.
 Remember!