Poems (Truesdell)/Lines on being shown a Tress of Hair
LINES
ON BEING SHOWN A TRESS OF HAIR.
InSCEIBED TO MrS. A. SMALLEy, Of KENTUCKY.
This little tress of soft, fair hair, I've kept for many years, Embalmed it with a mother's love, And watered it with tears.
With trembling hand I severed it From off a brow so fair:—Alas! of all so beautiful, This death alone could spare
Unto my aching, frenzied sight! Each tear I would repress: But vain; for woman's grief breaks forth In gushing tenderness.
A fragile plant to me was given; I nurtured from its birth, And watched to see my flower expand— It blooms, but not on earth.
I found it was not given to me— To me 't was only lent; And now, with heavenly choirs above, My radiant flower is blent.
Be still, be still, each murmuring thought; Dost hear that music's flow? More sweetly stealing o'er my soul Than touch of lute-chords low.
It is my darling's voice I hear; It thrills with rapture wild: Fain would I break these bonds of clay, To clasp my angel child.
But I am earthly, earth's dark stain Is on my spirit still: Unmurmuringly I bow my head— "My Father, 'tis thy will."