How many a child of care,
Won by thy power,
Might raise his voice in prayer,
Taught by thee, little flower!
Ah! surely thou wast given,
A gracious boon from heaven,
To throw its charm on sinful earth for one short blissful hour!
Farewell! I may not stay;
Thy frail, drooping form
Heeds not the sun’s fierce ray,
Nor winter’s frowning storm!
Like thee, kind hearts have perish’d
By those that should have cherish’d,
And held the shield of friendship to shelter them from harm.
Like thee, I soon must fade,
And ’neath the sky
Lifeless and cold be laid!
But though I claim no sigh,
Though no fond heart may miss me
When death’s pale lips shall kiss me,
If my short life be pure as thine, I need not fear to die.
May, 1857.
LINES
Written on the Departure of the Prince of Wales from Portland, October, 1860.
(Set to Music by F. Barnby, Esq., and sung at a Concert given in honour of the Prince, in Montreal, November 9th, 1860.)
I.
He stands alone upon the deck,
A prince without a peer,
He hears the cannon’s farewell boom,
The loud and loyal cheer—
A prayer from true New England hearts,
Honest and brave and free,
That God would guide Old England’s heir
Safe o’er the stormy sea.
He sees the sad, regretful gaze
That marks him as he goes,
And prays that God may never make
Such trusty friends his foes,
But that, as brothers in the cause
Of Liberty and Right,
Under the sacred flag of Truth
They ever may unite.
II.
He stands alone upon the deck,
Son of the noblest Queen
That ever placed a royal crown
Upon a brow serene.
For her sake did we welcome him,
Who owns an empire’s love;
But now we bless him for his own,—
God bless him from above!
He stands alone, a boy in years,
A “mighty one” by birth,
Crowned with a love that far excels
The brightest crowns of earth;
Nor thinks he of the pomp and power
That wait his glad return,
But thoughts of manly tenderness
Deep in his bosom burn.