Lucretia Maria Davidson Poems

The sky is pure, the clouds are light,
The moonbeams glitter cold and bright;
...

Hang not thy harp upon the willow,
Mourn not a brighter, happier day,
But touch the chord, and life's wild billow
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Gethsemane! there's holy blood
Upon thy green and waving brow;
Gethsemane! a God hath stood,
And o'er thy branches bended low!
...

And can my simple harp be strung
To higher theme, to nobler end,
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In yon lone valley where the cypress spreads
Its gloomy, dark, impenetrable shades
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Life is but a troubled ocean,
Hope a meteor, love a flower
Which blossoms in the morning beam,
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Farewell, and may some angel guide,
Some viewless spirit hover o'er thee;
Who, let or weal or woe betide,
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Lo! yonder rides the empress of the night!
Unveil'd she casts around her silver light;
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(Written in her fifteenth year.)
Roll back, thou tide of time, and tell
Of book, of rosary, and ...
...

She knelt, and her dark blue eye was rais'd,
A sacred fire in its bright beam blaz'd,
...