The Exile to his Sister.

As streams at morn, from seas that glide,
    Rejoicing on their sparkling way,
Will turn again at eventide,
    To mingle with their kindred spray--
Even so the currents of the soul,
    Dear sister, wheresoe'er we rove,
Will backward to our country roll,
    The boundless ocean of our love.

You northern star, now burning bright,
    The guide by which the wave-tossed steer,
Beams not with a more constant light
    Than does thy love, my sister dear.
From stars above the streams below
    Receive the glory they impart;
So, sister, do thy virtues glow
    Within the mirror of my heart.

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

A Wall-Street Lyric.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

In Memory of Charles H. Sandford.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

King Cotton.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

Masonic Hymn.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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I'm With You Once Again.

I'm with you once again, my friends,
No more my footsteps roam;
Where it began my journey ends,
Amid the scenes of home.
No other clime has skies so blue,
Or streams so broad and clear,
And where are hearts so warm and true
As those that meet me here?

Since last with spirits, wild and free,
I pressed my native strand,
I've wandered many miles at sea,
And many miles on land.
I've seen fair realms of the earth
By rude commotion torn,
Which taught me how to prize the worth
Of that where I was born.

In other countries, when I heard
The language of my own,
How fondly each familiar word
Awoke an answering tone!
But when our woodland songs were sung
Upon a foreign mart,
The vows that faltered on the tongue
With rapture t...

George Pope Morris

The Star of Love.

The star of love now shines above,
    Cool zephyrs crisp the sea;
Among the leaves the wind-harp weaves
    Its serenade for thee.
The star, the breeze, the wave, the trees,
    Their minstrelsy unite,
But all are drear till thou appear
    To decorate the night.

The light of noon streams from the moon,
    Though with a milder ray
O'er hill and grove, like woman's love,
    It cheers us on our way.
Thus all that's bright--the moon, the night,
    The heavens, the earth, the sea,
Exert their powers to bless the hours
    We dedicate to thee.

George Pope Morris

To The Evening Star.

The woods waved welcome in the breeze,
    When, many years ago,
Lured by the songs of birds and bees,
    I sought the dell below;
And there, in that secluded spot,
    Where silver streamlets roved,
Twined the green ivy round the cot
    Of her I fondly loved.

In dreams still near that porch I stand
    To listen to her vow!
Still feel the pressure of her hand
    Upon my burning brow!
And here, as in the days gone by,
    With joy I meet her yet,
And mark the love-light of her eyes,
    Fringed with its lash of jet.

O fleeting vision of the past!
    From memory glide away!
Ye were too beautiful to last,
    Too good to longer stay!
But why, attesting evening star,
    This sermon sad recall:
"THAN LOVE AND LOSE 'TI...

George Pope Morris

My Bark is Out Upon the Sea.

My bark is out upon the sea--
            The moon's above;
Her light a presence seems to me
            Like woman's love.
My native land I've left behind--
            Afar I roam;
In other climes no hearts I'll find
            Like those at home.

Of all yon sisterhood of stars,
            But one is true:
She paves my path with silver bars,
            And beams like you,
Whose purity the waves recall
            In music's flow,
As round my bark they rise and fall
            In liquid snow.

The fresh'ning breeze now swells our sails!
            A storm is on!
The weary moon's dim lustre fails--
            The stars are gone!
Not so fades Love's eternal light
            When storm-clouds weep;
I know one heart...

George Pope Morris

Love in Exile.

Adapted to a Hungarian melody.




My heart I gave you with my hand,
    In brighter days than these,
In that down-trodden father-land
    Beyond the distant seas,
Where you were all the world to me,
    Devoted, fond, and true,
And I, in our prosperity,
    Was all the world to you!
Robbed by a tyrant's iron sway,
We're banished from that land away!

Sad wanderers from our native home!
    A ruler in a foe!
An exiled caravan we roam;
    But hand in hand WE go!
And thus whatever fate betide
    We bless our lot in life,
Since no misfortunes may divide
    The husband and the wife!
Here we defy the tyrant's will,
We're happy in each other still!

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