When Other Friends.

When other friends are round thee,
And other hearts are thine--
When other bays have crowned thee,
More fresh and green than mine--
Then think how sad and lonely
This doating heart will be,
Which, while it beats, beats only,
Beloved one, for thee!

Yet do not think I doubt thee,
I know thy truth remains;
I would not live without thee,
For all the world contains.
Thou art the start that guides me
Along life's troubled sea;
And whatever fate betides me,
This heart still turns to thee.

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

Lucy.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

Janet McRea.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

The Retort.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

Rosabel.

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

I Love Thee Still.

I never have been false to thee!--
    The heart I gave thee still is thine;
Though thou hast been untrue to me,
    And I no more may call thee mine!
I've loved, as woman ever loves,
    With constant soul in good or ill:
Thou'st proved as man too often proves,
    A rover--but I love thee still!

Yet think not that my spirit stoops
    To bind thee captive in my train!--
Love's not a flower at sunset droops,
    But smiles when comes her god again!
Thy words, which fall unheeded now,
    Could once my heart-strings madly thrill!
Love a golden chain and burning vow
    Are broken--but I love thee still!

Once what a heaven of bliss was ours,
    When love dispelled the clouds of care,
And time went by with birds and flowers,
    While...

George Pope Morris

Oh, Think of Me!

Oh, think of me, my own beloved,
    Whatever cares beset thee!
And when thou hast the falsehood proved,
    Of those with smiles who met thee--
While o'er the sea, think, love, of me,
    Who never can forget thee;
Let memory trace the trysting-place,
    Where I with tears regret thee.

Bright as you star, within my mind,
    A hand unseen hath set thee;
There hath thine image been enshrined,
    Since first, dear love, I met thee;
So in thy breast I fain would rest,
    If, haply, fate would let me--
And live or die, so thou wert nigh,
    To love or to regret me!

George Pope Morris

Love Thee, Dearest!

Love thee, dearest?--Hear me.--Never
Will my fond vows be forgot!
May I perish, and for ever,
When, dear maid, I love thee not!
Turn not from me, dearest!--Listen!
Banish all thy doubts and fears!
Let thine eyes with transport glisten!
What hast thou to do with tears?

Dry them, dearest!--Ah, believe me,
Love's bright flame is burning still!
Though the hollow world deceive thee,
Here's a heart that never will!
Dost thou smile?--A cloud of sorrow
Breaks before Joy's rising sun!
Wilt thou give thy hand?--To-morrow,
Hymen's bond will make us one!

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

The Tyrant Sway.

The heart that owns thy tyrant sway,
    Whate'er its hopes may be,
Is like a bark that drifts away
    Upon a shoreless sea!
No compass left to guide her on,
Upon the surge she's tempest-torn--
    And such is life to me!

And what is life when love is fled?
    The world, unshared by thee?
I'd rather slumber with the dead,
    Than such a waif to be!
The bark that by no compass steers
Is lost, which way soe'er she veers--
    And such is life to me!

George Pope Morris