TO MY FATHER,
Reading edition
AFTER A WRECK OF FORTUNE, AND IN A FOREIGN LAND.
All gone—yet 'mid this heavy loss A ray of light behold; If thou art parted with the dross, There's left for thee the gold. A name unsullied—conscience clear, From aught that man can prove; And, what must be to thee most dear, Thy children's changeless love. The visions of the world so fair Are fading from our sight; Yet hope sinks not in vain despair, But points to one more bright. Oh, may misfortune's chilling blight, But bind us closer here, Till we behold the dawning light Of yonder blessed sphere. And O, my father, linger not, In exile, from our hearth; Ah, this has been a cherished spot, To make us cling to earth. 'Tis where the youngest of the seven First drew his fleeting breath, Sweet cherished flower, the gift of heaven, To fill our blooming wreath. And saddened memories linger not Around each faded year; Oh, let it never be forgot Death hath not entered here. The shrine of many a fervent prayer, More loved than words can tell, Is passing to another's care, And we must say, Farewell. But O, my father, hasten home, 'Tis in each loved one's heart; Thy wife, thy children, bid thee come, And ne'er again depart. For me, my love shall ever twine Around thy future years; And my most fervent prayers be thine Amid this vale of tears, That when life's busy cares shall cease— Its feeble ties be riven; Thine honored head may rest in peace, Thy soul ascend to heaven.