Thomas Cowherd Poems

Dear cousin, I hail you as Mother most brave,
Who crossed in mid-winter Atlantic's broad wave!
What you had to suffer in part I conceive,
Though no gloomy story you made me believe
...

My dearest children, do you know
That best of all things here below,
And knowing, you should always show
To one another
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Christians of Brantford, list awhile,
An humble Rhymer speaks to you.
Perhaps the fact may cause a smile,
Though I speak not from motives vile
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Stern Winter on foul mischief bent
Left his cold region of the North;
As his Advance-guard early sent
Loud howling blasts and snow storms forth
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I saw a youthful mother lie
Upon the bed of death.
No bitter tears bedimmed her eye
Though parents, spouse, and friends were nigh
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An humble poet-save the mark!
Wishes to give to you a lay
In honor of your wedding day,
But somehow labors in the dark
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A task so painful, yet so justly due
To thee, my dear, my much respected Brother,
Rightly devolves on me whose heart beats true
In Zion's cause; yet, would it were another!
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Ida, it is a burning shame
That thy short, sweet poetic name
Has not a single lay called forth
From my cranium since thy birth!
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Sweetly asleep is Mary Ann,
In calmest infantile repose
Her lovely face no longer wan,
Seems lovelier still when in a doze
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Come, dove-eyed peace-offspring of heaven, descend;
Thy calm, sweet influence do thou me lend;
Dispel the gloom that broods upon my mind;
Bid melancholy flee; make me resigned
...