At Last.

What though upon a wintry sea our life bark sails,
What though we tremble 'neath its cruel gales,
    Its icy blast;
We see a happy port lie far before,
We see its shining waves, its sunny shore,
Where we shall wander, and forget the troubled past,
    At last.

No storms approach that quiet shore, no night
Falls on its silver streams, and valleys bright,
    And gardens vast;
Within that pleasant land of perfect peace
Our toil-worn feet shall stay, our wanderings cease;
There shall we, resting, all forget the past,
    At last.

The sorrows we have hid in silent weariness,
As birds above a wounded, bleeding breast,
    Their bright plumes cast;
The griefs like mourners in a dark array,
That haunt our footsteps here, will flee away,
And leave us to forget the sorrowful past,
    At last.

Voices we loved sound from those far-off lands,
And thrill our hearts; life's golden sands
    Are dropping fast;
Soon shall we meet by the river of peace, and say,
As the night flees before the eye of day,
So faded from our eyes the mournful past,
    At last.

Marietta Holley

Marietta Holley was an American humorist who used satire to comment on social issues, particularly those related to women's rights. Her works, often compared to those of Mark Twain, highlighted the absurdities of society's treatment of women. Her most famous character, 'Samantha', allowed her to address serious topics with wit and humor, making her an influential figure in the women's suffrage movement.

Marietta Holley

Aweary.

Marietta Holley, Simple Poetry

Summer.

Marietta Holley, Simple Poetry

The Haunted Castle.

Marietta Holley, Simple Poetry

Farewell.

Marietta Holley, Simple Poetry

English

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The Fairest Land.

'Twas a bleak dull moor that stretched before
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Motives.

I said that I would see
Her once, to curse her fair, deceitful grace,
To curse her for my life-long agony;
But when I saw her face,
I said, "Sweet Christ, forgive both her and me."

High swelled the chanted hymn,
Low on the marble swept the velvet pall,
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And then shot through my soul
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A Rich Man's Reverie.

The years go by, but they little seem
Like those within our dream;
The years that stood in such luring guise,
Beckoning us into Paradise,
To jailers turn as time goes by
Guarding that fair land, By-and-By,
Where we thought to blissfully rest,
The sound of whose forests' balmy leaves
Swaying to dream winds strangely sweet,
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When with eager eyes and tremulous lip,
We watched the silent, silver ship
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O'er the land we would reach some day, some day.

But years have flown, and our weary feet
Have never reached that Isle of the Blest;
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The Land Of Long Ago.

Now while the crimson light fades in the west,
And twilight drops her purple shadows low -
We stand with Memory on the mountain's crest,
That overlooks the land of Long Ago.

Unmoved and still the form beside us stands,
While mournful tears our heavy eyes o'erflow,
As silently he lifts his shadowy hands,
And points us to the land of Long Ago.

It lies in beauty 'neath our sad eyes' range,
Bathed in a richer light, a warmer glow;
For fairer moons, and sunsets rare and strange,
Illume the landscape of the Long Ago.

We see its vales of peace, its hills of light
Shine in the rosy air, ah! well we know -
That nevermore will bless our yearning sight,
So fair and dear a land as Long Ago.

We see the gleaming spires of those high halls
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The Story Of Gladys.

"I leave my child to Heaven."    And with these words
Upon her lips, the Lady Mildred passed
Unto the rest prepared for her pure soul;
Words that meant only this: I cannot trust
Unto her earthly parent my young child,
So leave her to her heavenly Father's care;
And Heaven was gentle to the motherless,
And fair and sweet the maiden, Gladys, grew,
A pure white rose in the old castle set,
The while her father rioted abroad.

But as the day drew near when he should give,
By his dead lady's will, his child her own,
He having basely squandered all her wealth
To him intrusted, to his land returned,
And thrilled her trusting heart with terrors vague,
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My Angel.

Last night she came unto me,
And kneeling by my side,
Laid her head upon my bosom,
My beautiful, my bride;
My lost one, with her soft dark eyes,
And waves of sunny hair.
I smoothed the shining tresses,
With tearful, fond caresses,
And words of thankful prayer.

And then a thrill of doubt and pain,
My jealous heart swept o'er;
We were parted - she was dwelling
Upon a far-off shore;
Yet He who made my sad heart, knew
I loved her more and more;
My love more true and perfect grew,
As each dark day passed o'er;
But she whose heart had been my own,
Who loved me tenderly,
Whose last low words I knelt to hear,
Were, "How can I leave thee?"

And "Death would seem as sweet as life,
Could we together be."
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