Reply To A Toast

SENT BY MR. W. TO THE LADIES OF WAYLAND, AT THEIR FAIR HELD ON MAY-DAY.


Many, many kind thanks from the Waylanders fair,
Who are sorry, quite sorry you could not be there,
To receive their warm greeting, partake of their cheer,
And repaid by their smiles for your wishes sincere.
That health and content may your footsteps attend,
Believe me, dear sir, is the wish of your friend.

May 2, 1853.

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

The Kings And Queens Of England

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow, Simple Poetry

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

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow, Simple Poetry

An Acrostic.

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow, Simple Poetry

The Nocturnal Visit.

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow, 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.

REPLY: To A Friend In The City, From Her Friend In The Country. Which I Am Grateful For Permission To Insert.

Dear Madam,
Many thanks for your missive so charming in verse,
So kind and descriptive, so friendly and terse;
It came opportune on a cold stormy day,
And scattered ennui and "blue devils" away;
For though in the city, where "all's on the go,"
We often aver we feel only "so so,"
And sigh for a change - then here comes a letter!
What could I desire more welcome and better?
But how to reply? I'm lost in dismay,
I cannot in rhyme my feelings portray.
The nine they discard me, I'm not of their train,
They entreatingly beg, "I'll ne'er woo them again;"
But I'll brave their displeasure, and e'en write to you
A few lines of doggrel, then rhyming adieu.
My errors do "wink at," for hosts you'll descry,
And spare all rebuff, and the keen crit...

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

A Toast.

Here's a health to thee, Roberts,
And here's a health to me;
And here's to all the pretty girls
From Denver to the sea!

Here's to mine and here's to thine!
Now's the time to clink it!
Here's a flagon of old wine,
And here are we to drink it.

Wine that maketh glad the heart
Of the bully boy!
Here's the toast that we love most,
"Love and song and joy!"

Song that is the flower of love,
And joy that is the fruit!
Here's the love of woman, lad,
And here's our love to boot!

You and I are far too wise
Not to fill our glasses.
Here's to me and here's to thee,
And here's to all the lasses!

Bliss Carman

Rejoinder To The Foregoing Reply.

Many, many thanks my friend,
For those sweet verses thou didst send,
    So good they were and witty;
And now I will confess to thee,
Mixed up with bad, much good I see
    Within the crowded city.

Boston, "with all thy faults I love
Thee still," though much I disapprove -
    See much in thee to blame;
Yet to be candid, I'll allow
Thy equal no one can me show
    From Mexico to Maine.

It is my boast, perhaps my pride,
To be to English blood allied,
    Warm in my veins it's flowing;
And when I see the homage given
To foreign men and foreign women,[1]
    That blood with shame is glowing.

I hope when Kossuth fever's cool
And we have put our wits to school,
    And sober senses found;
When the Hungarian's...

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow

Song For A Temperance Dinner To Which Ladies Were Invited

(New York Mercantile Library Association, November, 1842)

A health to dear woman! She bids us untwine,
From the cup it encircles, the fast-clinging vine;
But her cheek in its crystal with pleasure will glow,
And mirror its bloom in the bright wave below.

A health to sweet woman! The days are no more
When she watched for her lord till the revel was o'er,
And smoothed the white pillow, and blushed when he came,
As she pressed her cold lips on his forehead of flame.

Alas for the loved one! too spotless and fair
The joys of his banquet to chasten and share;
Her eye lost its light that his goblet might shine,
And the rose of her cheek was dissolved in his wine.

Joy smiles in the fountain, health flows in the rills,
As their ribbons of silver unwind fr...

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Semi-Centennial Celebration Of The New England Society New York, December 22, 1855

New England, we love thee; no time can erase
From the hearts of thy children the smile on thy face.
'T is the mother's fond look of affection and pride,
As she gives her fair son to the arms of his bride.

His bride may be fresher in beauty's young flower;
She may blaze in the jewels she brings with her dower.
But passion must chill in Time's pitiless blast;
The one that first loved us will love to the last.

You have left the dear land of the lake and the hill,
But its winds and its waters will talk with you still.
"Forget not," they whisper, "your love is our debt,"
And echo breathes softly, "We never forget."

The banquet's gay splendors are gleaming around,
But your hearts have flown back o'er the waves of the Sound;
They have found the brown home whe...

Oliver Wendell Holmes