Mary Weston Fordham

Mary Weston Fordham Poems

Bright and beautiful art thou,
Autumn flowers crown thy brow,
Golden-rod and Aster blue,

Night and a starless sky,
Ship on wild billows tost,
With tattered sails and opening seams,
And deck bestrewn with falling beams,

On a starry, wintry night,
Frosty and cold was the air,
And the lowly vale where Bethlehem stood,

All hail! thou gorgeous sunset,
With thy gold and purple clouds,
Tinting the vast horizon,
Like shadowy, fleecy shrouds.

'Cast down your bucket where you are,'
From burning sands or Polar star
From where the iceberg rears its head

'Twas a cloudless morn and the sun shone bright,
And dewdrops sparkled clear;
And the hills and the vales of this Western land

Sleep, love sleep,
The night winds sigh,
In soft lullaby.
The Lark is at rest

Hail Flag of the Union! Hail Flag of the free!
That floateth so proudly o'er land and o'er sea
Thy Stars and thy Stripes, in grandeur doth wave

Columbia, all hail!
May thy banner ne'er be furled
Till Liberty, with her beauteous rays,
Enlighten all the world.

Just look, 'tis a quarter past six, love-
And not even the fires are caught;
Well, you know I must be at the office-

Come and listen to the chiming
Of St. Michael's merry bells,
When the joyous Christmas morning,
All of Bethlehem's story tells.

By the Rivers of Babylon we mournfully bent,
With 'harps on the willows' and venture all rent,
For burdened by sorrow and saddened by pain,

Rest thee aged pilgrim, now thy toils are o'er;
Peacefully thou'st landed over Jordan's shore;

Come Peace, on snowy pinions,
Come, nestle like a dove;
Encircle earth's dominions
With harmony and love.

The Past it is fraught with many a feeling
Of pleasure, of sadness, of joy, and of pain;
And 'tis sweet of an eve when dewdrops are falling,

Mightier than the sword thou art,
Thou can'st pierce like venomed dart,
Time and space count naught with thee,

The earth was young, the world was fair,
And balmy breezes filled the air,
Nature reposed in solitude,
When God pronounced it 'very good.'

Gentle as a maiden's dream,
Softly as the gliding stream,
Falls the glittering, sparkling snow.
With its wealth of crystal pearls-

How comest thou, O flower so fair,
To bud and bloom while wintry air
Still hovers o'er the land?

Lady with thine eyes of beauty
Rivaling cerulean flowers,
Where the love-beams seem to linger,
Throughout youth's bright, sunny hours.

The Best Poem Of Mary Weston Fordham


Bright and beautiful art thou,
Autumn flowers crown thy brow,
Golden-rod and Aster blue,
Russet leaf with crimson hue.
Half stripped branches waving by,
Softly as a lullaby,
Tell of summer's days gone by,
Tell that winter's very nigh.

In the forest cool and chill,
Sadly moans the Whippoorwill,
Not as in the summer days,
When he gloried in his lays,
Lower-toned, but sweet and clear,
Like thy crisp and fragrant air,
Warbling forth with voice sublime,
This is nature's harvest time.

Crickets chirp amid the leaves,
Squirrels hop among the trees,
Brown nuts falling thick and fast,
On the dewy, dying grass,
Glowing sun with softer rays,
Harbinger of wintry days,
Tell the year is going by,
Sighing forth its lullaby.

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