Alexandria gazette. [volume] (Alexandria, D.C.) 1834-1974, 1834-04-02
TO MISS


TO MISS ---
And is it so? a thousand miles apart,
Haslay of mine e'er touch'd a gifted heart?
Brighten'd the eye Of beauty2 won her smlle2
Rich recompense for all the poets toil2
That fay'ring smile, that brighten'd eye,
That tells the hearts warm ecstacy,
have not seen-I may not see
But maiden kind! thy gift shall be
A more esteemed and CHERISHED prize
Than fairest smiles of brightest eyes.
And this rich trophy of the poets power,
Shall shine on many a lone and distant hour.
Praise from the fair, howe'er bestowed we greet,
In words and looks outspeaking words; It's
sweet:
But when it breathes in bright and polish'd lays,
Warm from a kindred heart, this, this is praise.
We are not strangers:-In our hearts We own
Chords that must ever beatin unison.
The same touch wakens them, in all we see
Or hear, or feel, we own a sympathy,
We look where natures charms in beauty rise,
And the same transport glistens in our eyes.
The joys of others cheer us, and we keep
A ready tear to weep with those that weep.
IT'S this that, in tn imprisoned hour,
Give to the favor'd bard the power,
AS sweetly flows the stream of song,
To bear the raptur'd soul along,
AND make it captive to his will,
With all his own emotions thrill.
This is a tie that binds us;-'this the glow,
The gushing warmth" Of heart, that Poets
know.
We are not strangers:-Well thy lines impart
The Patriots feelings in the Poets heart.
Not even thy praise can make me vainly deem
That twas the Poets power, and not his theme
That woke thy hearts warm rapture, when
from far;
His song of victry caught thy fav'ring ear.
That victry was thy country's, and his strain
Was of that starry banner that again
Had wav'd in triumph, on the battle plain. }
Yet, though Columbia's land be wide.
Though Chesapeake's broad waters glide
Far distant from the forest shores
Where Alabama'S current rOars;
Yet over all this land so tair
Still waves the flag of stripe and star,
Still on the Warriors bank is seen
And shines in Coosa's valleys green,
BY Alabama's maiden sung
With Patriot heart and tuneful tongue.
Yes, | have looked around me here
And felt | was no foreigner.
Each friendly hands frank offer'd clasp
Tells me it is a bother's grasp.
My own, | deem, these rushing floods,
My own these wild and waving woods.
And (to a poet. Q, how dear!)
My own songs sweetly chanted here.
The joy with which these scenes | view
Tell me this is my country too.
These sunny plains | freely roam;
| am no outcast from q home,
No wanderer on a foreign strand;
"This is my own, my native land"
We are not strangers-Still another tie
Binds us more closely more endearingly.
The Poets heart, though time his verse may
save,
Must chill with age, and perish in the grave.
The Patriot too must close his watchful eye
Upon the land he loves, his latest sigh,
All he has left to give it, ere he die.
But when the Christian faith in power hath
spoke
To the how'd heart and the worlds spell is
broke,
That heart TRANSFORMED, a never dying flame
Warns with new energy, above the claim
o. death TO extinguish-oh! if we have felt
This holy influence, and have humbly knelt
In penitence for pardon, sought and found
Peace from earth's trouble, balm for every
wound;
For us, if Faith this work oflove hath done,
Not alike only are our heartS-they're one,
Our hopes, fears, joys and sorrows all the same
One path our course, one object all our aim.
Though sunder'd here, one home at last is given
Strangers on earth but fellow heirs of Heaven.
Yes, | will bear thy plausive strain afar,
A light to shine upon the clouds Of care,
A flower to cheer me in life's thorny ways
And | will think of her whose fav'ring lays
klnd greeting gave; and the hearts best hour
For thee its warmest wishes it shall pour.
And may | ask, when this fair volume brings,
Some thought of him who tried to wake the
strings a
OF his forgotten Tyre, at thy command.
which warm'd his heart and nerv,d
his HANDY
Thou would'st for one, who in the worlds wild
strife
Is doom'd to mingle mid the storms of life,
Give him the blessings of a christians care
And raise, in his defence, the shield of prayer.
f. S. KEY.
Tuscaloosa, December 10, 1888.