O DAUGHTER dear, my darling child, Prop of my mortal pilgrimage, Thou who hast care and pain beguiled, And wreathed with Spring my wintry age -- Through thee a second prospect opes Of life, when but to live is glee, And jocund joys, and youthful hopes, Come thronging to my heart through thee. Backward thou lead'st me to the bowers Where love and youth their transports gave; While forward still thou strewest flowers, And bidst me live beyond the grave. For still my blood in thee shall flow, Perhaps to warm a distant line, Thy face my lineaments shall show, And even my thoughts survive in thine. Yes, Daughter, when this tongue is mute -- This heart is dust -- these eyes are closed, And thou art singing to thy lute Some stanza by thy sire composed, To friends around thou may'st impart A thought of him who wrote the lays, And from the grave my form shall start, Embodied forth to fancy's gaze. Then to their memories will throng Scenes shared with him who lies in earth, The cheerful page, the lively song, The woodland walk, or festive mirth; Then may they heave the pensive sigh That friendship seeks not to control, And from the fixed and thoughtful eye The half unconscious tears may roll: Such now bedew my cheek -- but mine Are drops of gratitude and love, That mingle human with divine -- The gift below, its source above. -- How exquisitely dear thou art Can only be by tears express'd, And the fond thrilling of my heart While thus I clasp thee to my breast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOHNNY APPLESEED by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE CREMATION OF SAM MCGEE by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE THE GALLOWS by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. MR. GEORGE WHITEFIELD, 1770 by PHILLIS WHEATLEY THE WATER WHEEL by ABU ABD ALLAH |