Bereft.

I.

No more to feel the pressure warm
    Of dimpled arms around your neck--
No more to clasp the little form
    That Nature did with beauty deck.


II.

No more to hear the music sweet
    Of merry laugh and prattling talk--
No more to see the busy feet
    Come toddling down the shaded walk.


III.

No more the glint of flaxen hair
    That nestled 'round the lilied brow--
No more the rose's bloom will wear
    The cheek so cold and pallid now.


IV.

No more the light from loving eyes,
    Whose hue was like the violet blown
Where Summer's softest, bluest skies,
    Had lent it coloring from their own.


V.

No more to fondly bend above
    The little one when slumber wrought,
With sweetest dreams, the smile of love
    The placid features then had caught.


VI.

No more on earth--oh, nevermore!
    The shattered idols of the heart
Can yearning love nor time restore--
    But--you may meet to never part!

George W. Doneghy

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George W. Doneghy

The Hills Of Lincoln.

George W. Doneghy, Simple Poetry

Father Ryan.

George W. Doneghy, Simple Poetry

A True Story.

George W. Doneghy, Simple Poetry

A Mother's Grave.

George W. Doneghy, Simple Poetry

English

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To Isabel

A Beautiful Little Girl.

Fair as some sea-child, in her coral bower,
    Decked with the rare, rich treasures of the deep;
Mild as the spirit of the dream whose power
    Bears back the infant's soul to heaven, in sleep
Brightens the hues of summer's first-born flower
    Pure as the tears repentant mourners weep
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Thy presence is a spell of holiness,
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Thy voice is music, at whose sounds Distress
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Where?

I.

O, where are the friends that in youth we once knew,
Whose smiles were like sunshine, whose hearts were so true?
Alas! they are lost in the darkness and gloom
That veils them from sight in the cold, silent tomb!


II.

O, where are the years that forever have fled,
And over Life's morning their radiance shed?
With the Past written down on the unending scroll
Where Time--grim destroyer--his victims enroll!


III.

O, where are the fancies, the visions, the dreams,
That filled the young breast--with which memory teems?
They have faded away--from life they have passed--
Like stars blotted out when the sky's overcast!


IV.

O, where are the hopes that have beckoned us on
With their beacons of light, throu...

George W. Doneghy

Loved And Lost.

I.

Sweetly to sleep beneath the fresh green turf
    They laid the loved and lost away;
A chair is vacant by the household hearth,
    And shadow-vested Sorrow's there to-day.


II.

The tender hands that guided us in youth
    Are folded now upon the gentle breast,
And those dear eyes whose depths were love and truth
    Are closed to open in eternal rest.


III.

Through simple faith and duty well performed,
    A crown of light forever shall be hers;
And though with bitter grief and anguish mourned,
    A consolation gleams through blinding tears!

George W. Doneghy

Fragment II - Sunset

The day and its delights are done;
So all delights and days expire:
Down in the dim, sad West the sun
Is dying like a dying fire.

The fiercest lances of his light
Are spent; I watch him droop and die
Like a great king who falls in fight;
None dared the duel of his eye

Living, but, now his eye is dim,
The eyes of all may stare at him.

How lovely in his strength at morn
He orbed along the burning blue!
The blown gold of his flying hair
Was tangled in green-tressèd trees,
And netted in the river sand
In gleaming links of amber clear;
But all his shining locks are shorn,
His brow of its bright crown is bare,
The golden sceptre leaves his hand,
And deeper, darker, grows the hue
Of the dim purple draperies
And cloudy banner...

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The Deserted.

"Come, sit thee by my side once more,
    'Tis long since thus we' met;
And though our dream of love is o'er,
    Its sweetness lingers yet.
Its transient day has long been past,
    Its flame has ceased to burn, -
But Memory holds its spirit fast,
    Safe in her sacred urn.

"I will not chide thy wanderings,
    Nor ask why thou couldst flee
A heart whose deep affection's springs
    Poured forth such love for thee!
We may not curb the restless mind,
    Nor teach the wayward heart
To love against its will, nor bind
    It with the chains of art.

"I would but tell thee how, in tears
    And bitterness, my soul
Has yearned with dreams, through long, long, years,
    Which it could not control.
And how the thought that clingeth t...

George W. Sands

A Mother's Grave.

I.

The years have passed in ceaseless round
    Since first they laid her here to rest
In dreamless sleep beneath the silent mound,
    With folded hands upon her gentle breast.


II.

The ivy twines about the crumbling stone,
    And Springtime's scented blossoms fling
Their incense o'er the peaceful home
    That knows no more of suffering.


III.

Full many a Summer's sun has shed
    Its brightest smile upon the hallowed spot,
And sobered Autumn and wild Winter spread
    Their garments here--she heeds them not!


IV.

The feathered wildlings of the wood and field
    Their untaught melody around it make,
But she who sleeps with eyes so softly sealed
    Their gladsome songs can never more a...

George W. Doneghy