Poems Sigourney 1834/An Exhibition of a School of Young Ladies
AN EXHIBITION OF A SCHOOL OF YOUNG LADIES.
How fair upon the admiring sight,
In Learning's sacred fane,
With cheek of bloom, and robe of white
Glide on yon graceful train!
Blest creatures! to whose gentle eye
Earth's gilded gifts are new,
Ye know not that distrustful sigh
Which deems its vows untrue.
There is a bubble on your cup
By buoyant fancy nurst,
How high its sparkling foam leaps up!
Ye do not think 't will burst:
And be it far from me to fling
On budding joys a blight,
Or darkly spread a raven's wing
To shade a path so bright.
There twines a wreath around your brow,
Blent with the sunny braid,
Love lends its flowers a radiant glow,
Ye do not think 't will fade;
And yet 't were safer there to bind
That plant of changeless die,
Whose root is in the lowly mind,
Whose blossom in the sky.
Yet who o'er Beauty's form can hang
Nor think how future years
May bring stern Sorrow's speechless pang,
Or Disappointment's tears,
Unceasing toil, unpitied care,
Cold treachery's serpent moan,
Ills that the tender heart must bear,
Unanswering and alone.
But as the frail and fragrant flower,
Crushed by the sweeping blast,
Doth even in death an essence pour,
The sweetest, and the last,
So woman's deep, enduring love,
Which nothing can appal,
Her steadfast faith, that looks above
For rest, can conquer all.