Song #4 Poem by Joanna Baillie

WHEN hollow bursts the rushing winds,
And heavy beats the show'r,
This anxious, aching bosom finds
No comfort in its power.
For ah, my love! it little knows
What thy hard fate may be;
What bitter storm of fortune blows,
What tempests trouble thee.
A wayward fate hath twin'd the thread
On which our days depend,
And darkling in the chequer'd shade
She draws it to an end.
But whatsoe'er may be thy doom,
The lot is cast for me;
Or in the world, or in the tomb,
My heart is fix'd on thee.

THE sun declines, his joyous course is o'er,
And night creeps on the unwilling world once more;
Beneath the wave he sinks, but not to rest,
For distant nations greet their welcome guest;
There morning glows whilst here it is not night,
And round the wide world spreads the realm of light;
O'er all the sky his blushing beams are thrown,
The ocean smiles in glory not its own,
Heaven weeps in dews o'er all the joys he shed,
And light still lingers though the sun be fled;
So hope, when banish'd from her favorite home,
The youthful heart, is forc'd for peace to roam,
Deals not a sudden death-blow to the breast,
But spreads her wing and leaves to time the rest;.
Still shines the soil where late her foot hath trod,
And perfumes scent her newly left abode;
The hues she lent still linger o'er each scene,
Like beauty on the lips where death hath been;
But soon we mourn the kindly beam that shone,
Night comes apace, our deity is gone,
Thick chilling mists freeze up the shivering soul,
And clouds on clouds their darker influence roll--
Unlike the sun, Hope lights no bright'ning star
To cheer our night when she is wandering far,
Creation smiles while yet endures her reign,
That o'er, she sets, and rises not again.

FRIENDS ! when I die, prepare my welcome grave
Where the eternal ocean rolls his wave;
Rough tho' the blast, still let his freeborn breeze,
Which freshness wafts to earth from endless seas,
Sigh o'er my sleep, and let his glancing spray,
Weep tear-drops sparkling with an heavenly ray,
A constant mourner then shall watch my tomb,
And nature deepen while it soothes the gloom.
O let that element whose voice had power
To cheer my darkest, soothe my loneliest hour,
Which thro' my life my spirit lov'd so well,
Still o'er my grave its tale of glory tell.
The gen'rous ocean, whose proud waters bear
The spoil and produce they disdain to wear,
Whose wave claims kindred with the azure sky
From whom reflected stars beam gloriously;
Emblem of God! unchanging, infinite,
Awful alike in loveliness and might,
Rolls still untiring like the tide of time,
Binds man to man and mingles clime with clime.
And as the sun, which from each lake and stream
Thro' all the world, where'er their waters gleam,
Collects the cloud his heavenly ray conceals,
And slakes the thirst which all creation feels,
So ocean gathers tribute from each shore,
To bid each climate know its want no more.
Exil'd on earth, a fetter'd prisoner here,
Barr'd from all treasures which my heart holds dear,
The kindred soul, the fame my youth desir'd,
Whilst hope hath fled which once each vision fir'd;
Dead to all joy, still on my fancy glow
Dreams of delight which heaven-ward thoughts bestow,
Not then in death shall I unconscious be
Of that whose whispers are eternity.

THO' pleasures fade, and wealth is gone,
And eyes, that once with fondness shone,
Look cold upon thee now;
Tho' sorrow still and misery
Roll in like billows from the sea,
And beat upon thy brow;
Tho' earth, a waste of waters seem,
And joy's remember'd as a dream
Which smil'd and pass'd away;
Tho' fancy can no more create
One scene to cheer thy darken'd fate,
Or paint one happy day;
Tho' all around look waste and chill,
And wretchedness and sense of ill
Make youth an old age seem;
In heaven no barrenness appears,
Gaze up to yonder heavenly spheres
Where hopes as heavenly beam.