For My Grandsons, Eddy And Ally.

I here engage
Upon this page
    A picture to portray,
Of two of an age
Yet neither a sage,
    But right honest hearts have they.
Each loves to play
And have his own way,
Yet I'm happy to say
    They quarrel, if ever, but seldom.
Though competent quite
To maintain their own right,
And even to fight,
    Yet peace to their bosom is welcome.
Both go to school,
And learn by rule
    That in neither a dunce we may find;
Both read and spell
And like it well;
    Thus with pleasure is profit combined.
One's eyes are black,
The other's blue;
    They both have honest hearts and true,
    And love each other dearly:
One's father, is brother
To the other one's mother,
    So cousins german are they most clearly;
Each has a father,
And each has a mother,
    And both do dearly love him;
But neither a sister,
And neither a brother,
    To play with, or to plague him.
And here I propose,
Ere I come to a close,
    A little advice to give;
To which if they heed,
They'll be better indeed,
    And happier as long as they live.
Be sure to mind
Your parents kind,
    And do nothing to vex or tease them;
But through each day
Heed what they say,
    And strive to obey and please them.
Take not in vain
God's holy name,
Do not work,
Do not play
On God's holy day,
    Nor from church stay away;
Always bear it in mind
To be gentle and kind,
And friends you will find,
And hearts to you bind,
    I am sure I may venture to say.
And when you're men,
Who sees you then
    I hope in you models will see,
Of good and great,
In Church and State,
    Whose lips with your lives agree.

Weston, Feb. 1852.

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow was an American poet whose works often reflected themes of nature and personal sentiment. Though not widely known today, she contributed to the literary scene of her time with a delicate touch and a keen observation of the world around her. Her poetry, characterized by its emotive language and thoughtful composition, provides a window into the sensibilities of her era. While specific details about her life remain sparse, her literary legacy continues through her published works and the resonance they hold for readers.

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow

My Times Are In Thy Hand.

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow, Simple Poetry

November.

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow, Simple Poetry

An Acrostic.

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow, Simple Poetry

The Clouds Return After The Rain.

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow, Simple Poetry

English

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My S.S. Class.

I now will endeavor, while fresh in my mind,
My Sabbath School Class to portray;
The theme's furnished for me, I've only to find
Colors to blend, their forms to display.

And first on the canvass we'll Adeline place,
With her full and expressive dark eye;
Decision of purpose is stamped on that face,
And good scholarship too we descry.

Next in order comes Alice, with bright sunny smile,
That does one's heart good to behold;
May the sorrows of life ne'er that young spirit blight,
Nor that heart be less cheerful when old.

But who's this that we see, with that mild pensive air,
And a look so expressively kind?
It is Ann, gentle Ann, before whom we pass by,
We will add - 't would be useless in any to try
Disposition more lovely to find.

...

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow

To My Niece, Mrs. M.A. Caldwell.

When days are dark and spirits low,
And hope desponding stands,
What comfort these few words bestow,
"My times are in thy hands."
That thought should every fear allay,
And every cloud dispel;
For we are in the hands of One
Who "doeth all things well."

He clothes the lily of the field,
Paints the gay tulip's leaf,
Hears the young ravens when they cry,
And hastes to their relief.
That little sparrow in thy path,
He noticed when it fell;
Numbereth the hairs upon thy head,
And "doeth all things well."

Then say not when with cares oppressed,
He hath forsaken me;
For had thy father loved thee less,
Would he so chasten thee?
A friend he takes, a Husband too,
A Child, with him to dwell;
Selects the day, the place, the h...

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow

To My Daughter Elizabeth.

Two flowers upon one parent stem
Together bloomed for many days.
At length a storm arose, and one
Was blighted, and cut down at noon.

The other hath transplanted been,
And flowers fair as herself hath borne;
She too has felt the withering storm,
Her strength's decayed, wasted her form.

May he who hears the mourner's prayer,
Renew her strength for years to come;
Long may He our Lilly spare,
Long delay to call her home.

But when the summons shall arrive
To bear this lovely flower away,
Again may she transplanted be
To blossom in eternity.

There may these sisters meet again,
Both freed from sorrow, sin, and pain;
There with united voices raise,
In sweet accord their hymns of praise;
Eternally his na...

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow

To My Friend Mr. J. Ellis.

To thee, the guardian of my youthful days,
Fain would I pay some tribute of respect;
And though it falls far short of thy desert,
The will to do thee justice thou'lt accept.

As I recall the days of former years,
Thy many acts of kindness bring to mind,
Tears fill my eyes, in thee I've ever found
A friend most faithful, uniformly kind.

Thou art the earliest friend of mine that's left -
The rest have long departed, every one;
They've long years since the debt of nature paid,
But thou remainest still, and thou alone.

The snow of four score winters thou has seen,
And life's long pilgrimage may soon be o'er;
Respected, loved, and happy hast thou been,
With ample means to relieve the suffering poor,
Thou ever hadst the will, as well as power...

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow

To My Friend Mrs. Lloyd

My very dear friend
Should never depend
Upon anything clever or witty,
From a poor country wight
When attempting to write,
To one in your far famous city.
Indeed I'm inclined,
To fear that you'll find
These lines heavy, and quite out of joint;
And now I declare,
It's no more than fair,
Should this prove a dull letter,
That you write me a better;
And something that's quite to the point.
This having premised
As at present advised,
I'll indulge in the thoughts that incline,
Not with curious eye
The dim future to spy,
But glance backward to "Auld Lang Syne."
If I recollect right,
It was a cold day quite,
And not far from night
When the Boarding School famous I entered.
Now what could I do?
Scarce above my own sho...

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow

Life's Changes.

A fair young girl was to the altar led
By him she loved, the chosen of her heart;
And words of solemn import there were said,
And mutual vows were pledged till death should part.

But life was young, and death a great way off,
At least it seemed so then, on that bright morn;
And they no doubt, expected years of bliss,
And in their path the rose without a thorn.

Cherished from infancy with tenderest care,
A precious only daughter was the bride;
And when that young protector's arm she took,
She for the first time left her parents' side.

With all a woman's tender, trustful heart,
She gave herself away to him she loved;
Why should she not, was he not all her own,
A choice by friends and parents too approved?

How rapidly with him the days now...

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow