Hannah Flagg Gould

Hannah Flagg Gould Poems

The Frost looked forth, one still, clear night,
And he said, 'Now I shall be out of sight;
So through the valley and over the height

ALONE I walked the ocean strand;
A pearly shell was in my hand:
I stooped and wrote upon the sand
My name—the year—the day.

Down in my solitude under the snow,
Where nothing cheering can reach me;
Here, without light to see how to grow,

Lady, the fairest flowers the morn disclosed
Are glowing on thy bosom; while within,
Thousands of clustering joys are still in bud:

God, is thy throne accessible to me-
Me of the Ethiop skin? May I draw near
Thy sacred shrine, and humbly bend the knee,

With cherub smile, the prattling boy,
Who on the veteran's breast reclines,
Has thrown aside his favorite toy,
And round his tender finger twines

O Thou, who hear'st the feeblest prayer,
The humblest heart dost see,
Upon the chilly midnight air
I pour my soul to thee!

Of deep research and cogitation,
Of many a head and many a nation,
While all in vain

Sun, from thy bed in the sea,
Each morning I see thee arise;
But what is thy glory to me,
Whose days are but measured by sighs?

Who is thy neighbour!-see him stand,
With sunken cheek and eye,
Where hunger shows the empty hand
Thy bounty can supply!

I'm sorry they let me go down to the brook,
I'm sorry they gave me the line and the hook,
And I wish I had staid at home with my book.

I am feeble, pale, and weary,
And my wings are nearly furled;
I have caused a scene so dreary,
I am glad to quit the world!

'Ho!' said a butterfly, 'here am I,
Up in the air, who used to lie
Flat on the ground, for the passers by
To treat with utter neglect!

'So,' said a fly, as he paused and thought
How he had just been brushed about,
'They think, no doubt, I am next to nought-

'I look on the bow that my father bent,
And I know the ways where the warrior went.
I remember the flash of the chieftain's eye;

The careless eye, and the piteous one
Poor lost Maria alike will shun.
She loves to roam with her fearless child

'I am a Pebble! and yield to none!'
Were swelling words of a tiny stone,
'Nor time nor season can alter me;
I am abiding, while ages flee.

Hannah Flagg Gould Biography

Hannah Flagg Gould (September 3, 1788 – September 5, 1865) was an American poet. Gould was born in Lancaster, Massachusetts, but while yet a child her father moved to Newburyport, Massachusetts. Her father, Benjamin Gould (1751-1841), had been a soldier in the American Revolutionary War, and after her mother's death, she became his constant companion, which accounts for the patriotism of her earlier verses. She early wrote for several periodicals, and in 1832 her poetical pieces were collected in a volume. In 1835 and in 1841 a second and third volume appeared, each entitled simply Poems, and in 1846 she collected a volume of her prose compositions, entitled Gathered Leaves. Of her poetry a writer in the Christian Examiner remarked that it was "impossible to find fault. It is so sweet and unpretending, so pure in purpose and so gentle in expression that criticism is disarmed of all severity and engaged to say nothing of it but good. It is poetry for a sober, quiet, kindly-affectioned Christian heart. It is poetry for a united family circle in their hours of peace and leisure. For such companionship it was made, and into such it will find, and has found, its way". One of her more popular verses, A Name in the Sand, was often misattributed to better-known authors, such as Charles Dickens and George D. Prentice. She led a quiet life in the homestead where she resided for half a century — a life that would have been as secluded as it was unostentatious but for her genial hospitality and the many visitors and distinguished authors who sought her acquaintance. Her nephew was the noted astronomer Benjamin Apthorp Gould. She died at Newburyport, September 5, 1865.)

The Best Poem Of Hannah Flagg Gould

The Frost

The Frost looked forth, one still, clear night,
And he said, 'Now I shall be out of sight;
So through the valley and over the height
In silence I'll take my way.
I will not go like that blustering train,
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
Who make so much bustle and noise in vain,
But I'll be as busy as they!'

Then he went to the mountain, and powdered its crest,
He climbed up the trees, and their boughs he dressed
With diamonds and pearls, and over the breast
Of the quivering lake he spread
A coat of mail, that it need not fear
The downward point of many a spear
That he hung on its margin, far and near,
Where a rock could rear its head.

He went to the windows of those who slept,
And over each pane like a fairy crept;
Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped,
By the light of the moon were seen
Most beautiful things. There were flowers and trees,
There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees,
There were cities, thrones, temples, and towers, and these
All pictured in silver sheen!

But he did one thing that was hardly fair, -
He peeped in the cupboard, and, finding there
That all had forgotten for him to prepare, -
'Now, just to set them a-thinking,
I'll bite this basket of fruit,' said he;
'This costly pitcher I'll burst in three,
And the glass of water they've left for me
Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking.'

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