Grace Greenwood Poems

A BATTLE-SHOUT for Hungary
Once more shall wake the day, —
A joyful summons to the brave,
To rally for the fray;
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A CHILD of the Republic,
I have never bowed the knee
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How like soft skies that bend at even
Italia's vales above,
Thy spirit's pure and tranquil heaven,
Illumed with stars of love!
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THERE was a rose, that blushing grew
Within my life's young bower;
The angels sprinkled holy dew
Upon the blessed flower.
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WHEN troubled in spirit, when weary of life,
When I faint 'neath its burdens, and shrink from its strife,
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THE glorious queen of heaven, who flings
Her royal radiance round me now,
As with clasped hands and upturned brow
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THERE was a season when I loved
The calm and holy night, —
When, like yon silvery evening star,
Just trembling on our sight,
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THY Mary hath gone from thee; — thou hast folded
For the last time her dear form to thy breast,
And on those lips, in softest beauty moulded,
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TENDER and pale the young moon shone, —
The time of dreams stole o'er the earth,
Stilling the greenwood's sounds of mirth,
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As Linnæus wrote his name in flowers,
Thus, Artist, shall it ever be
That lily brows, carnation cheeks,
...