Herald of the times. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1830-1846, 1839-03-28
SIENNoWlsID ip@MW|T Q
sTANzAs ON THE DEATH OF MRS
HEMANS.

Tho rose--the glorious rose is gonen
Lays OF Many Lands.
Bring flowers to crown the cup aud Lutte
Hiring aowers-the bride is near
bring flowers Co soothe ths crptives cell,
firing flowers 10 soothe the bier
Bring flowers thus said the lovely song
And shall they not be brought
To her who linked the oiItring
With feeling and with thought
Bring howers---the perfnIned and tho pure
Those with the morning dew,
A sigh In every fragrant leNf,
tear on every hue.
No pure, so sweet thy lifs has been,
So filing earth and air
With odors aud with loveliness,
Till common scenes grow fair
Thy song around our daily path
Flung benuty born OF dreams,
That shadows On the actual world
The spirits sum, CLEANS.
Mysterious influence, that TO earth
brings down the heaven above,
And Oils the universal heart
With nniscrsal love.
snch gins were thino--as from the block,
The uniformed and The cold,
The sculptor calls To breathing hfs
Some shape of perfect mould,
30 thou rom common thoughts aud things
pidst call u charmed song,
Which on a sweet and swelling tide
Bore the full song along.
And thou from far aud foreign lands
Didst bring back many n tone,
And giving such new music still
music Of thino own.
lony strain of generous thoughts,
Aud yet suhdued aud swell
An angels song, who siugs Of earth,
Whose cares are at his ieet.
And yet thy song In sorrow6li,
Its beauty is not bloOmi
The hopes Of which IL brealhes, are hopes
That look beyond the tomb.
Tkv song is soFrowfui as winds
That wander DER the plain,
And nsk for summers vanished flowers,
Aud ask for them in van
An dearly purchased is the gin,
The gin Of song like thine;
A f,ted doom Is hers who stands
The priestcss of the shrine.
Tho crowd-they only ths crown
They only hear the hymn
They mark not that the cheek 10 pale,
And that the eye Is dim.
Wound to a pitch too exquisite,
The souls fine chords are wrnng;
With misery AMI melody
They ARE too highly strung.
The heart IL made too sensitive
I.ife's daily pain 90 bearj
IL beats IN music, but IL beats
Beneath deep despair.
II never moets the love II paints
Tho love for which ~ pibes;
Too much OF Heaven in In ths fath
That such heart enshrines.
The meteor wreath the poet wears
Must make lonely lot;
!, dnzzles, only to divide
From those who wear IL not.
Didst thou not tremble at thy fame,
And loathe its bitter prize,
While what to Others triumph seemed,
To thee was sacrifice
On. Flower brought from Paradise
To this cold world OF ours,
shadows of beauty such thino
Recall thy native bowers.
Let others thank thce-'twas for them
Thy soft leaves thou dhlst wreathe;
The red rose wastes itself in sighs
Whose sweetness others breathe
And they have thanked thee-many q LIP
Has asked Of thine for words,
When thoughts, lies finer thoughts, havo touched
The spirits inmost chords.
How many loved and hanored thee,
Who only knew thy name;
which DER the weary working world
Like starry music came
With what still hours Of calm delight
Thy songs and image blend;
i cannot choose but think thou vert
An old isUiliar friend
The charm that dwoit In songs Of thino
My inmost spirit moved;
And yet feel rs thou hadst been
Not half enough beloved.
They say that thou vert faint and worn
With suffering aud with care;
What music Llust have filled the soul
That hand 20 much to spare
Oh, weary One since thou art laid
Within thy mothers breast
The green, the quiet mother earth
Thrice blessed be thy rest
Thy heart Is lefl within our hearts,
Although lies pang is Ger;
But the quick tears are in my eyes,
And can write no more. L.E. /.