George Pope Morris Poems

Oh, think of me, my own beloved,
Whatever cares beset thee!
And when thou hast the falsehood proved,
Of those with smiles who met thee--
...

Oh, this love--this love!
I ainse the passion slighted;
But hearts that truly love,
Must break or be united.
...

Oh, would that she were here,
These hills and dales among,
Where vocal groves are gayly mocked
By Echo's airy tongue:
...

'Tis the opinion of the town
That Grim's a silly elf:
In trying to write Clinton down,
He went RIGHT DOWN HIMSELF.
...

After life's eventful mission,
In her truthfulness and worth,
Like a calm and gentle vision
She has passed away from earth
...

I know that thou art mine, my love,
I know that thou art fair;
And lovelier than the orange-flowers
That bind thy glossy hair:
...

To me the world's an open book
Of sweet and pleasant poetry;
I read it in the running brook
That sings its way toward the sea.
...

On old Long Island's sea-girt shore
We caught a cod the other day;
He never had been there before,
And wished that he had stayed away.
...

OLD Ironsides at anchor lay,
In the harbor of Mahon;
A dead calm rested on the bay -
The waves to sleep had gone;
...

Unseal the city fountains,
And let the waters flow
In coolness from the mountains
...