Poems by George Pope Morris Part 32

Here we defy the tyrant's will, We're happy in each other still!

To The Evening Star.

The woods waved welcome in the breeze, When, many years ago, Lured by the songs of birds and bees, I sought the dell below; And there, in that secluded spot, Where silver streamlets roved, Twined the green ivy round the cot Of her I fondly loved.

In dreams still near that porch I stand To listen to her vow!

Still feel the pressure of her hand Upon my burning brow!

And here, as in the days gone by, With joy I meet her yet, And mark the love-light of her eyes, Fringed with its lash of jet.

O fleeting vision of the past!

From memory glide away!

Ye were too beautiful to last, Too good to longer stay!

But why, attesting evening star, This sermon sad recall: "THAN LOVE AND LOSE 'TIS BETTER FAR TO NEVER LOVE AT ALL!"

Welcome Home.

My Mary's voice!--It is the hour She promised to be here: Taught by love's mysterious power, I know that she is near.

I hear the melody she sings Beneath our happy dome, And now the woodland cheerly rings With Mary's welcome home.

My Mary's voice!--I hear it thrill In rapture on the gale, As she comes gliding down the hill To meet me in the vale.

In all the world, on land or sea, Where'er I chance to roam, No music is so sweet to me As Mary's welcome home.

The Sycamore Shade.

I knew a sweet girl, with a bonny blue eye, Who was born in the shade The wild sycamore made, Where the brook sang its song All the summer-day long, And the moments went merrily by, Like the birdlings the moments flew by.

I knew a fair maid, soul-enchanting in grace, Who replied to my vow, 'Neath the sycamore bough, "Like the brook to the sea, Oh, I yearn, love, for thee!"

And she hid in my bosom her face-- In my bosom, her beautiful face.

I have a dear wife, who is ever my guide!

Wooed and won in the shade The wild sycamore made, Where the brook sings it song All the summer-day long, And the moments in harmony glide, Like our lives they in harmony glide.

Up the Hudson.

Song and Chorus.

Up the Hudson!--Fleetly gliding To our haunts among the trees!

Joy the gallant vessel guiding With a fresh and cheerful breeze!

Wives and dear ones yearn to meet us-- (Hearts that love us to the core!) And with fond expressions greet us As we near the welcome sh.o.r.e!

Chorus.

Ho! ye inland seas and islands!-- (Echo follows where we go!) Ho! ye headlands, hills, and highlands!

Ho! ye Undercliffeans, ho!

Up the Hudson!--Rock and river, Grove and glen p.r.o.nounce His praise, Who, of every "Good the Giver,"

Leads us through these pleasant ways!-- Care recedes like water-traces Of our bark, as on we glide, Where the hand of nature graces Homesteads on the Hudson side!

Chorus.

Ho! ye inland seas and islands!-- (Echo follows where we go!) Ho! ye headlands, hills, and highlands!

Ho! ye Undercliffeans, ho!

Only Thine.

I know that thou art mine, my love, I know that thou art fair; And lovelier than the orange-flowers That bind thy glossy hair: That thou hast every gentle grace Which nature can design-- I know that thou art mine, my love, I know that I am thine: Yes, thine, my love, I'm thine, my love, Thine, thine, and only thine.

I know that thou art true, my love, And welcome as the breeze Which comes, with healing on its wings, Across the summer seas: That thou hast every winning charm Which culture may refine-- I know that thou art mine, my love, I know that I am thine.