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
...
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,
...
In yon lone valley where the cypress spreads
Its gloomy, dark, impenetrable shades
...
Life is but a troubled ocean,
Hope a meteor, love a flower
Which blossoms in the morning beam,
...
Farewell, and may some angel guide,
Some viewless spirit hover o'er thee;
Who, let or weal or woe betide,
...
Lo! yonder rides the empress of the night!
Unveil'd she casts around her silver light;
...
(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,
...