New-York daily tribune. [volume] (New-York [N.Y.]) 1842-1866, 1844-02-03

r follow ing verses, from the pen OF lady oil ohlo'
" LIZ, pos,ic faculty or unusual cultivation w e
It&y at American Poetry TO select better thing
~ .e p,,,b Literature Of the last month Ed IT'o'1
'iA ST .JT WAS THY HAND, OH TIME.
For The Trbune.J
IrELr there was chilling breath
Poured ice-like DER my changing Oro"'
And the light fires that burned oenea'n'
Unroused and cold, were sluzbenns now.
NV eve had lost its joyous light,
Nv Inns their wonted wreath OF smiles:
The spring-time brought no garland bright,
Nor one sweet song the forest wilds.
The flowers, It's true, to bloom would start
The sunlight pour its tints of gold;
But could not wake my wearied heart
To rapture as in days of old
And then I deem'd the flowers must be
Less lovely in this stranger land,
And the young breeze less fresh and free
Than that which erst my temples famed
deemed that to my veins once more
Their bounding pulse of life would come,
Gould but taste the mountain air
That wandered Ger my early home.
With fainting step Ger mount and wave,
Ipassed to seek my native glen
My lip to cool, my brow to lave,
Amid its bursting springs again.
And il was there-the dancing stream,
That DER the cliff so madly dashed:
Still, with its wild and joyous CLEAN,
Unaltered in the sunlight flashed.
The wild winds that loved to hear
Still through the rocking pine-trees breathed,
And flowers to Lies first memories dear,
In each wild nook their garlands wreathed.
The mountain mists that upward curled,
So upward bore my spirit too
Till all the light of all the world
Seemed comprised in one glorious view
Curled upward still, and still could fling
Its hues, all gorgeous, to the wind;
Yet sadly, with untempted wing,
My weary spirit Jagged behind.
My early fiends-I found them not:
The young-the beautiful--the fair
But still, in each familiar spot,
Strange faces met me every Where'
And scattered were the forms loved:
The hearts that used my mirth to share
So to their distant homes | royed
To chide my spirits sadness there.
found them-and their bosoms yet
We're clustering warm roundMemoy's shrine;
Bnt alb on every brow met
The signet that felt on mine.
Again sought where brighter skies
On fairer lands their glories shed,
And graceful groups and beauteous dyes
Were DER the glowing landscape spread.
The birds rich song-the bursting flowers
The fountains softly murmuring flow
The dropping frut--the vine-clad bowers
Were like ON Eden here below.
babe the breeze, with odors rife,
Amid my loosened locks to roll,
And wake once more to buoyunt life
The geld current ofmy soul.
felt the South Winds balmy play;
wooed the Summers Joyous smile;
And bathed me in the dancing spray
Ofmany bright, and glorious isle.
Yet still upon my lip and brow
Their rigid seal unloosened lay;
And calmer grew my pulses flow,
And colder waxed my spirits play.
Young, lovely faces round me shone;
Free, happy voices rent the air:
My bosom walked no answering tone
My heart could find no echo there.
And then knew no foreign cline
Had thus the pulse of Life congealed-
twas the icy hand of Time,
Whose signet on my brow was sealed.
Oberlin, Ohio, Jan. 1914. II. E. q.