To My Husband.

Just two-and-forty years have passed[5]
Since we, a youthful pair,
Together at the altar stood,
And mutual vows pledged there.

Our lives have been a checkered scene,
Since that midsummer's eve;
Much good received our hearts to cheer,
And much those hearts to grieve.

Children confided to our care,
Hath God in kindness given,
Of whom five still on earth remain,
And two, we trust, in heaven.

How many friends of early days,
Have fallen by our side;
Shook by some blast, like autumn leaves
They withered, drooped, and died.

But still permitted, hand in hand
Our journey we pursue;
And when we're weary, cheered by glimpse
Of "better land" in view.

We may not hope in this low world,
Much longer to remain,
But oh! there's rapture in the thought,
That we may meet again.

    [5] July 14, 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

Escape Of The Israelites, And Destruction Of Pharaoh.

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow, Simple Poetry

God Is Love.

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow, Simple Poetry

The Great Physician.

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow, Simple Poetry

To My Missionary Friends, Mr. And Mrs. I.G. Bliss.

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow, Simple Poetry

English

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Life's Changes.

A fair young girl was to the altar led
By him she loved, the chosen of her heart;
And words of solemn import there were said,
And mutual vows were pledged till death should part.

But life was young, and death a great way off,
At least it seemed so then, on that bright morn;
And they no doubt, expected years of bliss,
And in their path the rose without a thorn.

Cherished from infancy with tenderest care,
A precious only daughter was the bride;
And when that young protector's arm she took,
She for the first time left her parents' side.

With all a woman's tender, trustful heart,
She gave herself away to him she loved;
Why should she not, was he not all her own,
A choice by friends and parents too approved?

How rapidly with him the days now...

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow

After Fifty Years

A MOTHER'S ADDRESS TO HER FAMILY ON HER GOLDEN-WEDDING DAY.


Just fifty years, my daughters,
    Just fifty years, my son,
Since your sire and I together
    The march of life begun.
It does not seem so long ago
    As half a hundred years,
Since hand in hand we started out,
    To face life's toils and tears.

And toils, and tears, too, we have met;
    Yet sunbeams oft have come -
Many and beautiful, and bright -
    To cheer our happy home;
Sweet infant faces, thro' the years,
    Are smiling back to me;
And, God be praised, each precious one
    Still at my side I see!

Yet ye are changed, my children three,
    Your baby-bloom is gone;
And you are growing old, I see,
    Grey hairs are coming on;
Yet wh...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

My Old Sweetheart

My old sweetheart is away to-day;
I feel as I did of old,
In my courting days, when far away
I yearned for her more than gold.

I thought of her handsome, smiling face,
Her noble and cultured brow,
Of her gentle ways, and charming grace;
I missed her less then than now.

Through the long years of our wedded life,
Now nearly a full two score,
She has proved herself a loving wife,
And a sweetheart evermore.

Our love has grown with the flight of time,
As the mountain stream may grow;
Or as a tree in a genial clime
When free from the frost and snow.

The tempest may madly rage without,
We have lasting peace within;
And confidence ne'er gives place to doubt,
Nor concord to noisy din.

She will soon return again to me,

Joseph Horatio Chant

The Golden Wedding.

Inscribed to OUR FATHER AND MOTHER, and read on that Anniversary,
FEBRUARY 15TH, 1876.


A half a century of time,
    The mingled pain and bliss
That make the history of life
    Between that day and this;
Two lives that in that morning light,
    Together were made one,
Now standing where the shadows fall
    Athwart the setting sun.

How long it seems!--the devious way.
    And full of toil and pain,--
Yet love and peace kept house with them,
    And love and peace remain.
Though youth and strength and youthful friends
    Were left upon the road
Long since, an honest man is still
    The noblest work of God.

No famous deeds, no acts achieved
    In battle or in state
Make memorable this festal day,
    The day ...

Kate Seymour Maclean

Looking Back.

I've been sitting reviewing the past, dear wife,
From the time when a toddling child, -
Through my boyish days with their joys and strife, -
Through my youth with its passions wild.
Through my manhood, with all its triumph and fret,
To the present so tranquil and free;
And the years of the past that I most regret,
Are the years that I passed without thee.

It was best we should meet as we did, dear wife, -
It was best we had trouble to face;
For it bound us more closely together through life,
And it nerved us for running the race.
We are nearing the end where the goal is set,
And we fear not our destiny,
And the only years that I now regret,
Are the years that I passed without thee.

'Twas thy beauty attracted my eye, dear wife,
But thy goodness...

John Hartley

For My Friend Mrs. R.

When writing to you, friend, a subject I'd find
In which there's both pleasure and profit combined,
And though what I've chosen may pain in review,
Yet still there's strange mingling of pleasure there too.
Then let us go back many years that are past,
And glance at those days much too happy to last.
I have seen thee, my friend, when around thy bright hearth
Not a seat was found vacant, but gladness and mirth
Kept high holiday there, and many a time
Were mingled in pastime my children with thine.
I've looked in again, the destroyer had come,
And changed the whole aspect of that happy home.
He entered that dwelling, and rudely he tore
From the arms of his mother, her most cherished flower.
Thy heart seemed then broken, oh! how couldst thou bear
To live in this...

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow