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

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John Carr

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

John Carr, Simple Poetry

Lines On Lady W ---- Appearing At The Exhibition.

John Carr, Simple Poetry

Lines To Delia, On Her Wearing A Muslin Veil.

John Carr, Simple Poetry

Lines To The Memory Of An Amiable Youth, Of Great Promise, Whose Afflicted Parents Received The Intelligence Of His Having Been Drowned, At The Very Time When His Arrival Was Expected From Abroad.

John Carr, Simple Poetry

English

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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

Lines Upon The Death Of The Lady Of Lieutenant-Colonel Adams, Who Lately Died Of A Decline In The East Indies.

When Time a mellowing tint has thrown
O'er many a scene to mem'ry dear.
It scatters round a charm, unknown
When first th' impression rested there.

But, oh! should distance intervene,
Should Ocean's wave, should changeful clime.
Divide - how sweeter far the scene!
How richer ev'ry tint of time!

E'en thus with those (a treasur'd few)
Who gladden'd life with many a smile,
Tho' long has pass'd the sad adieu,
In thought we love to dwell awhile.

Then with keen eye, and beating heart,
The anxious mind still seeks relief
From those who can the tale impart,
How pass their day, in joy or grief.

If haply health and fortune bless,
We feel as if on us they shone;
If sickness and if sorrow press,
Then feeling makes their woes our own.<...

John Carr

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 To The Memory Of Mrs. B ----

Ah, stranger! if thy pilgrim footsteps love,
By meditation led, to wander here,
A suff'ring husband may thy pity move,
Who weeps the loss of all his soul holds dear!

Cold as this mourning marble is that heart,
Which Virtue warm'd with pure and gen'rous heat,
Which to each checquer'd scene could joy impart,
Nor ceas'd to love until it ceas'd to beat.

Yet, gentle spirit! o'er thine early grave
Shall Consolation, like a seraph, prove,
When Sickness clos'd thy faultless life, she gave
Another angel to the realms above!

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

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