Emma Catherine Embury

"Weep not for those Who sink within the arms of death Ere yet the chilling wintry breath Of sorrow o'er them blows; But weep for them who here remain, The mournful heritors of pain, Condemn'd to see each bright joy fade, And mark grief's melancholy shade Flung o'er Hope's fairest rose."

"Sorrow treads heavily, and leaves behind A deep impression e’en when she departs; While joy trips by, with steps light as the wind, And scarcely leaves a trace upon our hearts Of the faint footfalls, only this is sure — In this world nought, save suffering can endure."

"The gathered rose, and the stolen heart, Can charm but for a day."

"Like lamps in Eastern sepulchres, Amid my heart’s deep gloom, Affection sheds its holiest light Upon my husband’s tomb. And, as those lamps, if brought once more To upper air grow dim, So my soul’s love is cold and dead, Unless it glow for him."

"The charm of eloquence, — the skill To wake each secret string, And from the bosom's chords at will Life's mournful music bring, — The o'ermastering strength of mind, which sway The haughty and the free, Whose might earth's mightiest one obeys, These, — these were given to thee."

"Oh never yet did Peace her chaplet twine, To lay upon base Mammon’s sordid shrine, Where Earth’s most precious things are bought and sold; Thrown on that pile, the "pearl of price" would be Despised, because unfit for merchantry."

"Peace, sweet Peace, is always found In her eternal home on holy ground."

"When the glad sun, exulting in his might, Comes from the dusky-curtain'd tents of night."

"Like the sweet melody which faintly lingers Upon the wind-harp's strings at close of day, When gently touch'd by evening's dewy fingers It breathes a low and melancholy lay; So the calm voice of sympathy meseemeth; And while its magic spell is round me cast, My spirit in its cloistered silence dreameth, And vaguely blends the future with the past."

"Number the riches by thy memory hoarded, Relics of joys thy by-past years have known, — How many real things has life afforded? How much true light was o'er thy pathway thrown?"

"— The grave's dark portal Soon shuts this world of shadows from our view, Then shall we grasp realities immortal, If to the truth within us we are true."

"There dwelleth in the sinlessness of youth A sweet rebuke that vice may not endure."