Sallie Williams Hardcastle

Sallie Williams Hardcastle Poems

1.

The spirit is often enraptured
With sweet tokens of love divine,
But seldom in language so plain
As spoken through music, to mine.
...

Oh, days of the lovely October,
How dear thou art to me;
Words are weak, when my soul would speak,
In language taught by thee.
...

'Burn my old letters'-ah! for you
These words are easy to say,
For you, who know not the light they brought
To many a darksome day.
...

I thank thee, my friend, for thy delicate gift,
These fair and beautiful flowers,
They come to me now, like a boon from above,
...

We loved thee-yes, we loved thee,
But the angels loved thee too;
And so thou now art sleeping
'Neath the sky so bright and blue.
...

What marvelous new-born glory
Is flushing the garden and lawn!
Hath the queen of all blossoming beauty
Come forth with the early dawn?
...

Sallie Williams Hardcastle Biography

Her father was also a writer of ability, having a thorough knowledge of the politics of his State, he frequently discussed them in the local journals with a ready and sarcastic pen. Although educated at Bedford Female College, her best and earliest tuition she owes solely to her father. She wrote her first verses at the age of fourteen her first , these were written on the death of a little friend of her own age and were published in the Virginia Sentinel. She was an occasional contributor to the Literacy Companion, Magnolia Weekly, and other Southern periodicals. She married in 1863 to Dr. Jerome H. Hardcastle, then a surgeon in the hospital at Liberty, Va. After the war they came to Maryland, and in 1876, to Cecilton, parenting five daughters and one son. Mrs. Hardcastle neglecting to preserve her poetic writings was so unfortunate to lose most of the few in her possession at the time of the evacuation of Richmond, in consequently the following poems are all it has been practicable to obtain.)

The Best Poem Of Sallie Williams Hardcastle

Music

The spirit is often enraptured
With sweet tokens of love divine,
But seldom in language so plain
As spoken through music, to mine.

Then my soul flings wide her portals,
And visions of Paradise throng,
While I bow, in silent devotion,
To the Author of genius and song.

The pleasures of earth are but few,
And scarce for our sorrows repay,
But we catch, in sweet moments like this,
A glimpse of the perfect day.

When I reach the Celestial City
And gaze from her golden tower,
Methinks my freed spirit would turn
Far back, to this rapturous hour.

And as angels are harping their songs-
Sweet songs of a heavenly birth-
I'll listen to hear the same touch
That played us this prelude on earth.

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