Morning herald. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1837-1840, 1840-12-16
Iron Poems OF M'DOnald tiarse
Lines O the Lady Ia Black, without Corsets

Or youthful Poets faacy-ahen they love-"
Don't turn those love-sick eyes away
Dearest ofSpirits, yelled in dust.
o, let me feel their soothing ray,
NJ soul Is with you night and day,
And always, when kneel, and pray
But do you love me;-Ah, you must.
Or, must not tell you how that face
Has haunted this dark heart, for years,
following me, IN every place,
With IT'S gentle charm and pensivc grace,
Untilt has left an aching trace
Oh hopes, kept fresh with tears.
Eve watched you, from a little child,
When you used to trip to school,
With looks that, like October smiled.
Dead leaves round her, sadly piled,
Scattering, when the winds were wildly
And thought myself fool,
For letting that sweet face bewieth,
Anl worry me, with its bashful charms.
For am poor--and you are rich,
And finer Fellows, on the itch,
Ae, and my memory TO pitch,
Far from those melting arms.
But Owe cannot hold the heart
Twill swell, and bum, and ache,
Tho kept for wretched years, apart,
Its nerve must thrill, its tears will start,
And hopes, like summer lghtnings, dart,
Before twill bend o: break.
Eve watched GU Mary--many years,
Like wild rose, in the bye'way born
Watered, by twilight's tenderest tears,
When the star ofthe setting Sun appears.
And Daylight's ghost, the deep sigh hears,
We breathe DER pleasures, dead and gone.
Pve watched you-and I've wished for wealth,
That might have chance
OfgaZing on you--not by stealth
But openly, as the Light that dwellth
Where Morning blazes, full ofhealth
And the broad'ning sunbeams dance.
I've wished-but what are wishes-dear,
To one who's poor and proud
Ounce, with doubloons round the year,
Has all to hope--not much to fear,
He-may, at your side appear,
And the Loyeliest, round him crowd.
Smiles, light has midnight footsteps home
Signs blow their candle out
Soft eyes, will thro his visions come,
Eyes brimmed with eloquence, tho dumb,
Proud Drawing Rooms are all a-hum,
Tho his face has hedge hogs snout
Mary-you are young, my child,
Such words may seem unkind-
God knows-the world I've not rcviled-
I've seen a coarse Abortion smiled,
His toilet, with love-notes over piled,
While one, with heart, and SOUL and mind,
ALL Almighty God imparts
To those, lie loves the best
Shut out from human Hsmes, and hearts
Writing with SANDERS secret darts,
Till his name with blood and weeping starts,
And he turns to the-grave, for rest.
God of the INDY ing soul,
Shall such things always be
Is Montgomery thing-the whole,
Shall a titled wretch, with a warm rent-roll,
Beauty, and Worth, and Bliss controul.
Tho shrunk in soul, and spurnedby Thee.
Let many a Mourning Home attest
The insanity ofthis lust of gold
White bosoms, by BLACKBOARD, press'd-
scoundrel, by soft arms, caress'd-
Ahuman beast-an honour'd guest
dying Daughter-sold
For what-a little dirty gain,
Some splendid BOBBY brought
A scented wreath a diamond chain,
Days of pride--and nights Of pain,
Nature crush'd-Atfection slain,
And the gilded-cofhn brought.
woman-yours is a wretched fate,
When You descend to Pride,
When, fevering to be gazed, and Great
To live in aaring Pomp and state,
Whitening on the breast Of the man you hate,
Till Hope has groaned and died
Happier, by far, the humblest one,
Who has a heart and SOUL
Can hold his head up in the sun,
Fond to all-and fearing none,
Tho Wealth, his manly efforts shun
And he drinks the scantiest bowl
Yet, Mary-ccnturies may pass,
Ere Earth will learn 20 spell,
That little word, called Love-and class
Things right, and not unwisely farce
Lies hottest Rite-see-the Ass
Kicked Domestic Love to-lielL
Bat, my sweet girl-may you, and yours,
b wiser than Ambitions slaves
May you escape the glittering lures
Ofgroveiling Grandeur-Love secures
Her meek Discples-true Love cures
The cares ofliie and lights our graves.
God bless you've may never meet
Except at Church, and in the street,
But O-ior all Napoleon's Thrones,
wouldn't give the thoughts, SO sweet,
That thrill me through, from head to feet,
As feel that fond hearts qucken'd beat,
At the blush oi.-Mary 49,.
ov. 2s.h, 1910, 20 minutes past 10, A NJ.