Poems by Susanna Moodie
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Offspring of heaven, fair Freedom! impart
Autumn, thy rushing blast
Born with the sun, the fair daughters of time,
Oh for the spirit which inspired of old
Sinking now in floods of light,
Oh ye! who all life's energies combine
POET.
My eyes have seen another spring
Like a dew-drop from heaven in the ocean of life,
"What hast thou seen in the olden time,
Oh nature! though the blast is yelling,
Oh Love! how fondly, tenderly enshrined
"He will come to night," young Mary said,
O'er Time's mighty billows borne,
I have dreamed sweet dreams of a summer night,
I come, like Oblivion, to sweep away
O come to the meadows! I'll show you where
Rejoice O my people! Jehovah hath spoken!
O mighty God! our fathers told
THE TWILIGHT HOUR.
There were two sons of Ashur at work in the field,
Sorrow has touched thee, my beautiful boy!
THE FOLLOWING LITTLE POEM WAS SUGGESTED BY A PASSAGE IN THE MEMOIRS OF THE LATE MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON OF BOSTON, NEW ENGLAND.
Visions of the years gone by
An awful vision floats before my sight,
Methought last night I saw thee lowly laid,
There was no sound in earth or air,
Like the herald hope of a fairer clime,
Young Naiad of the sparry grot,
"When will the grave fling her cold arms around me,
THIS REMARKABLE PHENOMENON WAS WITNESSED BY THE AUTHOR ON THE NIGHT OF THE 29th OF SEPTEMBER, 1829.
Like a maid on her bridal morn I rise,
WRITTEN IN COVE CHURCH-YARD; AND OCCASIONED BY OBSERVING MY OWN SHADOW THROWN ACROSS A GRAVE.
I come like an Eastern monarch dight
Thou beautiful Ash! thou art lowly laid,
JUDGES VIII.
There is a pause in nature, ere the storm
The harvest is nodding on valley and plain,
I know a cliff, whose steep and craggy brow
Spirit of eternal motion!
The spirit of the shower,
Thou splendid child of southern skies!
Slowly I dawn on the sleepless eye,
EZEKIEL XXXVII.
When the eye whose kind beam was the beacon of gladness
There's joy when the rosy morning floods
When these eyes, long dimmed with weeping,
Written After Perusing The Interesting Memoir Composed By Her Husband, The Rev. Greville Ewing.
LATE OF IPSWICH, AND ONE OF THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS.
Beautiful flowers! with your petals bright,
Oh dread uncertainty!
Dark spirit! who through every age
Majestic King of storms! around
WINTER.
YOUTH.