Lines, Supposed To Be Written By A Female Friend, Upon An Infant Recommended To Her Care By Its Dying Mother.

Bless'd be thy slumbers, little love!
Unconscious of the ills so near;
May no rude noise thy dreams remote,
Or prompt the artless early tear; -

For she who gave thee life is gone,
Whose trust it was thy life to rear,
Now in the cold and mould'ring stone
Calls for that artless early tear.

Sleep on, thou little dreamer! sleep;
For, long as I shall tarry here,
I'll soothe thee; thou shalt never weep,
Tho' flows for thee the tend'rest tear.

Then be thy gentle visions blest,
Nor e'er thy bosom know that fear,
Which thro' the night disturbs my rest,
And prompts Affection's trembling tear.

John Carr

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John Carr

Lines Written At Kilkenny, On The Theatricals Of That City.

John Carr, Simple Poetry

Epigram, Upon Seeing The Dilapidated State Of Bethlem Hospital.

John Carr, Simple Poetry

Lines To Mrs. B ---- , At Bristol Hot Wells

John Carr, Simple Poetry

Lines To A Young Lady, Occasioned By Her Declining An Offer Of Marriage Made Her By A Very Accomplished Friend Of The Author.

John Carr, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Lines Upon Seeing A Beautiful Infant Sleeping On The Bosom Of Its Mother.

Upon its native pillow dear,
The little slumb'rer finds repose;
His fragrant breath eludes the ear -
A zephyr passing o'er a rose.

Yet soon from that pure spot of rest
(Love's little throne!) shalt thou be torn;
Time hovers o'er thy downy nest,
To crown thy baby-brow with thorn.

Ah! thoughtless! couldst thou now but see
On what a world thou soon must move,
Or taste the cup prepar'd for thee
Of grief, lost hopes, or widow'd love,

Ne'er from that breast thou'd'st raise thine head,
But thou would'st breathe to Heav'n a pray'r
To let thee, ere thy blossom fade,
In one fond sigh exhale thee there.

John Carr

Lines Upon A Lady Dying Soon After She Had Been Wrecked On The Cornish Coast, Leaving A Little Infant Behind Her.

Sweet stranger! tho' the merc'less storm
Here sternly cast thy fainting form,
What tho' no kindred hand was near
To wipe away Affliction's tear,

Yet shall thy gentle spirit own,
Amidst these sea-girt shores unknown,
That Pity pour'd her balmy store,
And kindred hands could do no more.

Ne'er shall that pang disturb thy rest,
That moves the parted mother's breast;
The object of thy dying fear
Shall want no father's fondness here.

Oft shall his little lips proclaim,
With April-tears, thy treasur'd name;
His little hands, when summers bloom,
Shall gather flow'rs to deck thy tomb.

John Carr

Lines To The Memory Of My Dear Brother, W.T.P. Carr, Esq.

- manibus date lilia plenis:
Purpureos spargam flores.

Aeneid, lib. vi.


Tho' no funereal grandeur swell my song,
Nor genius, eagle-plum'd, the strain prolong, -
Tho' Grief and Nature here alone combine
To weep, my William! o'er a fate like thine, -
Yet thy fond pray'r, still ling'ring on my ear,
Shall force its way thro' many a gushing tear:
The Muse, that saw thy op'ning beauties spread,
That lov'd thee living, shall lament thee dead!
Ye graceful Virtues! while the note I breathe,
Of sweetest flow'rs entwine a fun'ral wreath, -
Of virgin flow'rs, and place them round his tomb,
To bud, like him, and perish in their bloom!
Ah! when these eyes saw thee serenely wait
The last long separating stroke of Fate, -
When round thy bed a kin...

John Carr

Lines On A New-Born Infant.

Like a dew-drop from heaven in the ocean of life,
    From the morn's rosy diadem falling,
A stranger as yet to the storms and the strife,
    Dear babe, of thy earthly calling!

Thine eyes have unclosed on this valley of tears;
    Hark! that cry is the herald of anguish and woe;
Thy young spirit finds a deep voice for its fears,
    Prophetic of all that is passing below.

How short will the term of thy ignorance be!
    The winds and the tempests will rise,
And passion will cover with wrecks the calm sea,
On whose surface no shadow now lies.

Unclouded and fair is the morn of thy birth,
    The first lovely day in a season of gloom;
Whilst a pilgrim and stranger thou treadest this earth,
    May the sunbeams of hope gild thy path to the tomb.

Susanna Moodie

Lines To The Memory Of Mrs. A.H. Holdsworth, Late Of Mount Galpin, Devonshire.

Tyrant of all our loves and friendships here,
Behold thy beauteous victim! - Ah! tis thine
To rend fond hearts, and start the tend'rest tear
Where joy should long in cloudless radiance shine.

Alas! the mourning Muse in vain would paint,
Blest shade! how purely pass'd thy life away,
Or, with the meekness of a favour'd saint,
How rose thy spirit to the realms of day.

'Twas thine to fill each part that gladdens life,
Such as approving angels smile upon; -
The faultless daughter, parent, friend, and wife, -
Virtues short-lived! they set just as they shone.

Thus, in the bosom of some winding grove,
Where oft the pensive melodist retires,
From his sweet instrument, the note of love,
Charms the rapt ear, but, as it charms, expires.

Farewell, p...

John Carr

Lines Written At Brighton.

From Mirth's bright circle, from the giddy throng,
How sweet it is to steal away at eve,
To listen to the homeward fisher's song,
Whilst dark the waters of the ocean heave; -

And on the sloping beach to bear the spray
Dash 'gainst some hoary vessel's broken side;
Whilst, far illumin'd by the parting ray,
The distant sail is faintly seen to glide.

Yes, 'tis Reflection's chosen hour; for then,
With pensive pleasure mingling o'er the scene,
Th' erratic mind treads over life again,
And gazes on the past with eye serene.

Those stormy passions which bedimm'd the soul,
That oft have bid the joys it treasur'd fly,
Now, like th' unruffled waves of Ocean, roll
With gentle lapse - their only sound a sigh.

The galling wrong no longer knits the brow...

John Carr