The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1843-09-12
Poetry.
For the Caledonian.

Adieu dear loved Companion fHe 'heo "'"
Tboush months and years may roll, and sense decay
Thy image still shall in our mem'ry dwell
Wan to thy Wondering shrine our homage pay
tro, an our tears for when shall worth like thine
IJcnco(orth return, to soohe the troubled mind
Alas the melancholy scene is Ger
Go, loved Louisa wing thy flight above
Thy spirits hed to dwell with us no more'
We trust ,hou'rt happy whom we dearly loved
How short the time allotted us by heaven
Like flow RS that bloom at morn-cut down at even
The bud we prize may soonest fade and die;
We seek the spot on which once did bloom
Though withered, yet will not forgotten lie;
We still admire its charms, but mourn its DOOM
How false, alas appears life's fondest DREAM
How'er the present hour may brilliant SEEM
The cheek au lille may bloom with healthiul glow,
And smiling fortune our fond prospects bless,
Yet, in our cup, some secret poisons flow,
And shade those prospects with the blast of death;
While pain and seize the mortal frame,
Death grasps his prey, and leaves us but the name.
Whence is that sound, that single word Of woe,
Mid tears pronounced, and sad convusive signs,
When forced. by fate, from all we love below
Which well nigh burst the heart from whence they
rise?
Which strike upon the soul, with deadly chill,
Forbiddng fondest hopes, presagng ill?-
That tells US all our 'ondest joys are fed,
Meanwhile those joys illume fe's sparkling rays,
Which fancied visions DER existence shed,
To gid those clouds that cheer our fleeing days?
The grave of love, and fond affections knell,
Are found too oft, alas in that FAREWELL
There lives not in this world of human mould
Not even savage natures rudest child
A form dull, alIectionless and cold
Midst gloomy forests born or deserts wild,
But he has sometimes felt, when doomed 10 part,
The last sad, hopeless sorrows ofthe heart
Dear lost Louisa venerated shade
Though lingering month and days have roll'd away
Since low thy cold and lirccss form was laid
And shrouded in its lonely house of clay,
And left us in this world of doubts and lears
To shed our sad and unavailing tears;-
Though DER the cold, the damp,a and hallowed mound
That shrines thy loved form, altered mein,
The vernal sun has shed his beams around
And clothed the sod that shrouds thy house with
green,
Still lnser all our woes as fresh and warm,
As when we saw the grave enshroud thy form.
Kind partner of our joys and SORROWS here
Though deep our loss we mourn, and cares Cypress,
Thu setting sun was unobscured and clear,
And gently, calmly, thou didst sink 10 rest.
Thy spirits gone to seek its best abode
Bask in the sunshine of its maker-Gop.
No with nts sweet thv tunefnl ynice
Will e'er be heard our dropping hearts to cheer,
Or thy fond babes in thy embrace rejoice,
Or know the precepts of friend dear.
Our loss, we trust, is thine eternal gain;
In heaven we hope 10 meet, with Christ to reign.
And at the close o. lifes evenfu day
Environed in deaths cold and cheerless gloom,
Thy deathess spirit took its flight away,
And left thy weeping friends TO mourn thy doom
Rest from thy sorrows, es, and pains below
Soon thou wilt wake to reign where pleasures flow.
In retrospective still, I lnger DER
The time, when round thy dying couch we met,
Thy placid eyes, that mildly beamed before,
In deaths cold slumber there were calmly SET
Those looks remain, that told thy doom too sure,
Engraved on sorrows dark entabliture
In gloomy hours by night, my visoned thought,
Thy lost and lovely image views again.
And hence the past again is DER me brought,
For still thou seem'st 10 smile as kind as then;
But morning dawn, alas and ebbing night
Snatch from my view the fond delight
And when in lonely hours of slumber deep,
In fancies raptured moments, l forget
Thou seepst thy long, thy lost, and dreamless sleep
In my fond arms fain would clasp thee yet;
On thy fond babes thine eyes still mildly beam,
But soon, alas l weep thut it's dream.
At dawn of day, the reveals not thee,
And yet for other joys I wish nor care,
For still my aching hearts abode must be,
Within the sepulchre of hope-despair.
But onward time will wait eternal spring,
And then our hearts to thine again will cling
Father in Heaven amidst life's darkest scene
iAou call's our weary souls to pass through here,
On thy supporting goodness may we lean,
And feel thy cheering presence ever near;
In wsdonl's path with meek obedience run,
And humbly say, "thy righteous will be dona''
Burke, June "a, 1s43. .... ABB.