A Song.

Oh, sing me a merry song!
    My heart is sad tonight;
The day has been so drear and long,
The world has gone awry and wrong,
Discouragements around me throng,
    And gloom surpassing night.

Oh, sing again the song for me
    My mother used to sing
When I, a child beside her knee,
Looked up for her sweet sympathy,
Nor ever thought how I might be
    Her little hindering thing.

Oh, sing, as eventide draws near,
    The old-time lullabys
Grandmother sang - forever dear,
Though in her grave this many a year
She lies who "read her title clear
    To mansions in the skies."

Oh, sing till all perplexing care
    Has vanished with the day!
And angels ever bright and fair
Come down the melody to share,
And on their pinions lightly bear
    My happy soul away.

Hattie Howard

Hattie Howard is recognized for her significant contributions to 19th-century American poetry. Her work, characterized by its wit and lyrical quality, often explored themes of nature, love, and social issues. She had a unique voice that resonated with many of her contemporaries and continues to be appreciated for its depth and artistry.

Hattie Howard

Christmas-Tide.

Hattie Howard, Simple Poetry

The Summer House.

Hattie Howard, Simple Poetry

Going to Tobog.

Hattie Howard, Simple Poetry

One of the Least of These.

Hattie Howard, Simple Poetry

English

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A Bit of Gladness.

As I near my lonely cottage,
    At the close of weary day,
There's a little bit of gladness
    Comes to meet me on the way:
Dimpled, tanned, and petticoated,
    Innocent as angels are,
Like a smiling, straying sunbeam
    Is my Stella - like a star.

Soon a hand of tissue-softness
    Slips confidingly in mine,
And with tender look appealing
    Eyes of beauty sweetly shine;
Like a gentle shepherd guiding
    Some lost lamb unto the fold,
So she leads me homeward, prattling
    Till her stories are all told.

"Papa, I'm so glad to see you -
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And the gas-man brought a letter
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Request (To E. M.)

Sing me a song - a song to ease old sorrows,
And dull the edge of care -
A song of Hope to ring through all the morrows
That be my share.

Unlock the doors where joy hath been in hiding,
Though barred they be and strong,
And send black grief far down the wind a-riding -
Sing me a song.

Sing thou thy sky-lark song of sweetest daring,
And April ecstasy,
That I may follow it and go a-faring
To Arcady.

Charm sleep from out the shadows with thy singing,
And when the light turns grey,
Leave me bright dreams until the dawn comes bringing
The rose-edged day.

The wind of March taught thee his springtime madness,
And then in undertone
Whispered the wonder-secret of his gladness
To thee alone.

And thou hast learned from li...

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A Song.

Is any one sad in the world, I wonder?
    Does any one weep on a day like this,
With the sun above, and the green earth under?
    Why, what is life but a dream of bliss?

With the sun, and the skies, and the birds above me,
    Birds that sing as they wheel and fly -
With the winds to follow and say they love me -
    Who could be lonely? O ho, not I!

Somebody said, in the street this morning,
    As I opened my window to let in the light,
That the darkest day of the world was dawning;
    But I looked, and the East was a gorgeous sight.

One who claims that he knows about it
    Tells me the Earth is a vale of sin;
But I and the bees and the birds - we doubt it,
    And think it a world worth living in.

Some one says that hearts are fi...

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Sing Me The Old Songs, Mother.

    Our souls are the deserts of sorrow,
        Our hearts are the ashes of hope,
    And madly from gladness we borrow
        The brightness where sadness may grope;
    My raptures in wretchedness vanish,
        My bosom is weeping with wrongs;
    Then sing me the old songs, mother,
        Then sing me the dear old songs.

    My joys are in memory lying,
        Still ardently happy with youth,
    When smiles in ambition were dying,
        And life was the vision of youth;
    My brow for your gentle caresses
        And kisses of tenderness longs;
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        Then sing me the dear old songs.

    Sweet murmurs in mystical measures
        Come soothingly over my soul,
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Songs in the Night.

"Where is God my Maker, Who giveth songs in the night."--Bible.

The hour of midnight had swept past,
    The city bell tolled three,
The moon had sank behind the clouds,
    No rustling in the tree.
All, all was silent as the grave,
    And memories of the tomb,
Had banished sweet sleep far away,
    All spoke of tears and gloom.

When suddenly upon the air.
    Rang out a sweet bird's song,
No feeble, weak, uncertain note,
    No plaint of grief or wrong,
No "Miserere Domine,"
    No "Dies Irea" sad,
But "Gloria in Excelsis" rang,
    In accents wild and glad.

How could he sing? a birdling caged,
    And in the dark alone,
And then methought that he had seen,
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To Hope.

Oh! take, young Seraph, take thy harp,
And play to me so cheerily;
For grief is dark, and care is sharp,
And life wears on so wearily.
Oh! take thy harp!
Oh! sing as thou wert wont to do,
When, all youth's sunny season long,
I sat and listened to thy song,
And yet 'twas ever, ever new,
With magic in its heaven-tuned string--
The future bliss thy constant theme.
Oh! then each little woe took wing
Away, like phantoms of a dream;
    As if each sound
    That flutter'd round,
Had floated over Lethe's stream!

By all those bright and happy hours
We spent in life's sweet eastern bow'rs,
Where thou wouldst sit and smile, and show,
Ere buds were come, where flowers would blow,
And oft anticipate the rise
Of life's warm sun that scaled th...

Thomas Hood