Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE FEMALE'S LAMENTATIONS; OR THE VILLAGE IN MOURNING, by HANNAH WALLIS First Line: Once more I visited the place / where first I drew my breath Last Line: And endless praises sing. Subject(s): Death; Home; Mourning; Dead, The; Bereavement | ||||||||
ONCE more I visited the place Where first I drew my breath; But oh! what desolation made By that grim monster Death! There hardly was a building here, But some kind friend was gone; And former joys are turned to pain, When this is thought upon. I went and viewed that empty house Where my late brother dwelt; A wife and offspring he has left: Oh! the keen grief I felt! And walking on, I cast a look Upon that empty Hall; Those friends that once lived there are dead: 'Tis all in vain to call. And did I see that mansion, where His Honour once did dwell? Ye poor, that did receive his gifts, 'Tis vain your wants to tell. For now he slumbers in the dust, Regardless of your cry: Each empty room bespeaks your loss, Those gardens ruined lie. Oh! where is now the pleasure which Once sparkled in each face? The widow's heart sure sung for joy: How cheerful was that place! The mother here her garments showed, The father told the son; His Honour did their schooling pay: What good his spouse has done! But now the village seems to mourn, And that remark is just: 'Oh! put no confidence in man, Do not in princes trust.' I only had to cross the Green, Where once my parents lived; The owner of that dwelling now Did me refreshment give. I in the garden saw the trees My own dear brother bought; And though they live, yet he is dead: How mournful was the thought! Here is the orchard, where I, with My sister, oft did walk; With pleasure we the grass did tread, Or sit us down to talk. 'Twas all in vain to look around, Alas! she was not there; Oh! Death has hid her from my sight, She does not charm my ear. I went and viewed that room once more, Where my dear parent lay, When Death with solemn tidings came To take her life away. Here did I see her jaw-bone fall, And then her eye-strings break; And just before, I thought she strove These words to me to speak: 'Oh, Hannah! put your trust in God'; And could she then foresee The train of troubles that did come Upon unhappy me? What could a dying mother say More to a daughter dear, Than bid her put her trust in God, A friend that's ever near? Again I was in that doleful room, When thus to me 'twas said: 'Your father you'll alive not see' -- I cried, 'What! is he dead?'; As if in frenzy, scarce believed What they to me did say; But oh! indeed, he dropped down dead, 'Twas on a market day. Why do I wound my heart afresh? These sorrows are too keen: Then stop, my Muse, and turn, my thoughts, Unto a pleasing theme. For all that ever died in Christ Shall meet him in the air; So grand, so sweet, so fine a sight! I hope I shall be there. Oh! talk not of a Birth-day Night, Nor Coronation Day; Compared, they lose their beauties all, When Saints shall come away: With palms of victory in their hands, And crowns upon each head; And loud hosannas will proclaim His praise, that once was dead. Rejoice, ye Saints, he lives anew. Your Judge is now your King; Sweet hallelujahs all will cry, And endless praises sing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HUNGERFIELD by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE MOURNER by LOUISE MOREY BOWMAN HECUBA MOURNS by MARILYN NELSON THERE IS NO GOD BUT by AGHA SHAHID ALI IF I COULD MOURN LIKE A MOURNING DOVE by FRANK BIDART TO A SICK FRIEND by HANNAH WALLIS |
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