On the Death of Mrs. Jessie Willis.

After life's eventful mission,
    In her truthfulness and worth,
Like a calm and gentle vision
    She has passed away from earth.

Lovely she in frame and feature!
    Blended purity and grace!--
The Creator in the creature
    Glowed in her expressive face!

Angel of a nature human!
    Essence of a celestial love!
Heart and soul of trusting woman,
    Gone to her reward above!

Mourners, dry your tears of sorrow--
    Read the golden promise o'er;
There will dawn a cheerful morrow
    When we meet to part no more.

George Pope Morris

George Pope Morris was an American editor, poet, and songwriter. Born on October 10, 1802, he made significant contributions to American literature and music. Morris co-founded and edited the New York Evening Mirror, where he published works by Edgar Allan Poe and others. He is perhaps best known for his song "Woodman, Spare That Tree!" and his role in the early 19th-century literary scene. Morris died on July 6, 1864, leaving behind a legacy of editorial and creative work that influenced many American writers and musicians.

George Pope Morris

Twenty Years Ago

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

Mary.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

Song of Marion's Men.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

The Hunter's Carol.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

English

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Epitaph.

All that's beautiful in woman,
    All we in her nature love,
All that's good in all that's human,
    Passed this gate to courts above.

George Pope Morris

The Welcome and Farewell.

To meet, and part, as we have met and parted,
    One moment cherished and the next forgot,
To wear a smile when almost broken-hearted,
    I know full well is hapless woman's lot;
Yet let me, to thy tenderness appealing,
    Avert this brief but melancholy doom--
Content that close beside the thorn of feeling,
    Grows memory, like a rose, in guarded bloom.

Love's history, dearest, is a sad one ever,
    Yet often with a smile I've heard it told!
Oh, there are records of the heart which never
    Are to the scrutinizing gaze unrolled!
My eyes to thine may scarce again aspire--
    Still in thy memory, dearest let me dwell,
And hush, with this hope, the magnetic wire,
    Wild with our mingled welcome and farewell!

George Pope Morris

Silent Grief.

Where is now my peace of mind?
    Gone, alas! for evermore:
Turn where'er I may, I find
    Thorns where roses bloomed before!
O'er the green-fields of my soul,
    Where the springs of joy were found,
Now the clouds of sorrow roll,
    Shading all the prospect round!

Do I merit pangs like these,
    That have cleft my heart in twain?
Must I, to the very lees,
    Drain thy bitter chalice, Pain?
Silent grief all grief excels;
    Life and it together part--
Like a restless worm it dwells
    Deep within the human heart!

George Pope Morris

In Memoriam.

(A Tribute to Mrs. George A. Cox.)


    The Golden Rule - the blessed creed
    That shelters frail humanity,
    The tender thought for those in need,
    The charity of word and deed,
    Without which all is vanity -

    This, friend, you made your very own,
    And yours the satisfying part
    To pluck the rose of love full blown,
    To reap the gladness you had sown
    With open hand and kindly heart.

    Simplicity, the jewel rare,
    Whose gleam is ever true and warm -
    That thing of worth beyond compare
    Which none but truly great may wear -
    Adorned your life with power and charm.

    Yours the sincerity that grips
    Fast hold of natures strong and wise;
    It thrilled you to your finger-ti...

Jean Blewett

Near the Lake.

Near the lake where drooped the willow,
            Long time ago!--
Where the rock threw back the billow
            Brighter than snow--
Dwelt a maid, beloved and cherished
            By high and low;
But with autumn's leaf she perished,
            Long time ago!

Rock and tree and flowing water,
            Long time ago!--
Bee and bird and blossom taught her
            Love's spell to know!
While to my fond words she listened,
            Murmuring low,
Tenderly her dove-eyes glistened,
            Long time ago!

Mingled were our hearts for ever,
            Long time ago!
Can I now forget her?--Never!
            No--lost one--no!
To her grave these tears are given,
            Ever to flow:
She's the star I mis...

George Pope Morris

Jessie.

    You miss the touch of her dear hand,
    Her laughter gay and sweet,
    The dimpled cheek, the sunny smile,
    The patter of her feet.

    The loving glances she bestowed,
    The tender tales she told -
    The world, since she has gone away,
    Seems empty, drear and cold.

    Dear, oft you prayed that God would give
    Your darling joy and grace,
    That pain or loss might never dim
    The brightness of her face.

    That her young heart might keep its trust,
    Its purity so white,
    Its wealth of sweet unselfishness,
    Her eyes their radiant light,

    Her fair, soft face its innocence
    Of every guile and wrong,
    And nothing touch to mar the joy
    And gladness of her song.

    God he...

Jean Blewett