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When Sadness Like A Gloomy Night
Poet: Mary C. Ryan
When sadness like a gloomy night
Comes stealing o'er thy soul,
Oh! pause and think of time's swift flight.
How soon you'll reach life's goal.
And though thy heart is ofttimes tilled
With burning griefs and cares,
Reflect: for God with wisdom willed
This life be bathed in tears.
When weary here, toiling in vain,
With soul that longs for rest,
Then falter not, if thou would'st gain
A mansion with the blest.
It may be that love unrequited
May often dim thine eye,
Yet onward press, though earth may fade.
You'll get your meed on high.
Then nobly bear the cross of life,
Whate'er it chance to be;
E'er bravely battle in the strife
Until the soul is free.
Never repine o'er trifling woes.
This world is but a span;
And life in ceaseless numbers flows,
As when time first began. -
Pleasures
Poet: Mary C. Ryan
How fleeting are all the sweet pleasures below,
Like gay flaunting phantoms before us they go;
Or like dreams of enchantment with victory won.
Vanishing with sleep, and forever are gone.
Thus daily earth's pleasures like mists pass away.
The hopes we hold dearest the soonest decay;
And joys that are brightest the quickest depart.
Leaving fond mem'ries to cling round the heart.
The glory of kings, the beauty of flowers,
Survive but a season, a few summer hours,
For all we enjoy from our grasp pass away,
E'en life at its close will appear as a day.
How vain then are all the allurements of life,
Since all that is won in the world's busy strife.
In a moment is lost. The triumphs and fame
Of the great and the wise are simply a name.
For in palace or cot at life's ebbing tide,
But one hope can remain, one joy can abide.
The hope of the soul for redemption on high,
And joy of the promise, a home in the sky. -
Sonnet: Hope
Poet: Mary C. Ryan
Sweet angel of joy! beautiful Hope!
With jewel-tipped wings e'er ready for flight,
Thy siren songs, by moon's silver light,
Despair and sorrow oft will envelop
In a halo of bliss, till both are lost
In joy's bright cloud. Hope, thou anchor of life,
Which saves the weary in the world's great strife
When helplessly they, by storm's fury tossed,
A soul in anguish a long lonesome day
Rejoices ever thy sweet voice to ken.
So, beautiful Hope, chase woe far away
With thy bright allurements pure and serene.
May we enjoy thy smiles all the way.
Through earth's mystic vale, oh! ever be seen. -
Alas! Alas!
Poet: Mary C. Ryan
Alas ! Alas ! the noisy laugh,
May stifle back a sigh;
And galling tears concealed may lie
Within the brightest eye.
The gayest at' the banquet board,
O'er vanished days may mourn;
And e'en the light exulting heart,
With secret grief may burn.
Unfathomable the heart's great depths,
Ourselves we do not know,
For oscillating to and fro,
We live twixt joy and woe.
For all on earth must pass away.
Life's joys bright sunbeams prove;
And things most prized elude our grasp
Like phantom dreams of love. -
Childhood's Home
Poet: Mary C. Ryan
The earth bears on its bosom
No landscape more fair,
And this heart never cherished
Memories more dear,
Than the home of my childhood,
The fond ones that met
There around the bright fireside,
In converse so sweet.
Though those friends have departed.
Deserted that home,
And afar from its door-step.
So sadly I roam,
Yet oft of those happy years,
A shadowy train
Of dim visions seems gliding
Through my weary brain.
Other homes may be brighter.
In splendor may shine,
Other friends in true friendship
Grasp this hand of mine;
But, home of my childhood,
My heart leaps for thee,
Like an o'erflowing fountain
Where'er I may be. -
Little Daisy
Poet: Mary C. Ryan
Oh! sweet little Daisy, I'm sighing for you.
With thy fair auburn tresses and eyes of true blue.
Let me go where I will, I can never forget,
The brightest of summers, with no thorn of regret.
Oh! my love for the friends of the sweet long ago,
In mem'ry's fair garland, still in beauty may glow;
Like the breath of sweet flowers, their shadows may fall,
Yet sweet little Daisy is dearest of all.
Then come to me, Daisy, for my heart calls for you.
Oh! come in thy beauty with thy eyes of true blue.
Without you, love's circle would be incomplete,
But with you the bitters of this life would seem sweet.
Oh! the pleasures, fair Daisy, of the long ago,
In mem'ry's fair garland still in beauty may glow;
Like music's sweet strains, their shadows may fall,
But the hour I met Daisy is dearest of all. -
Though Bright
Poet: Mary C. Ryan
Though bright is the smile that's parting your lips.
And sweet the words you are saying;
Though sparkling the cup which young Cupid sips,
As with my poor heart he is playing.
Go leave me alone, for I wish to be free;
My poor heart in thralldom would break;
Yet stay, for I feel love's fetters on me,
While I not a protest can speak.
Go listen to a bird, as he sings of love,
So plaintive the notes which he trills;
Then ask why I shun the net Cupid wove
And refuse the cup that he fills.
Love smiles, and I see 'tis useless and vain
To attempt to resist him now,
For my quickened heart is throbbing with pain,
Or with joy that's akin to woe. -
Loved And Lost
Poet: Mary C. Ryan
Loved and Lost! it can not be.
We part for aye to-day,
That I no more gaily with thee,
Down by the brook will stray.
The wild rose that we plucked is dead.
But ah! its thorns remain
Deep in my heart; for joy has fled,
Never to come again.
Down by the brook, lover's tales you told.
And stole my heart from me ,
Then locked it with the key of gold
You dropped in mem'ry's sea.
Though we must part, we'll meet again.
Beyond the mists of death.
For souls in heaven would harbor pain
Without the loved of earth. -
Sunbeams
Poet: Mary C. Ryan
Grasp the golden sunbeams,
That gaily round thee play,
And hoard the fleeting gleams,
Shining so bright to-day.
For once their light is shed,
'Twill never shine again;
So grasp them e'er they fade
And pass beyond thy ken.
Let not the moments fly.
On slow wings of despair,
Kor on the noonday sky
Let no dark clouds appear.
So when life's sun is low.
And all thy tasks are done,
The heart will brightly glow
With pleasures that are gone.
Then, like through dark gray trees,
Sunset arrows dart,
Are virtues brightest rays
Reflected from the heart;
And over earth will throw,
From life's distant west,
Fair and golden halo,
As the soul sinks to rest. -
Oh! Give Me Back
Poet: Mary C. Ryan
Oh! give me back my childhood years,
The friends that are no more,
Youth's golden dreams, free from glum fears.
The balmy days of yore.
I'd rather sport in life's fair spring,
Chasing the butterfly,
Than win and love some beauteous thing.
Only to see it die.
Our dearest hopes will, one by one,
Pass far beyond our sight.
And pleasures vanish soon as won.
Like day fades into night.
For all that fortune can bestow,
Like fairy gifts must fade.
The days and years as quickly go;
Toil with vain hopes is paid.
And in ambition's gilded cup,
Is e'er a bitter draught
For her fond votaries to sup;
Her shrine's with sorrow fraught.
So give me back my childhood's years.
Heart light as thistle-down,
And eyes undimmed with rising tears,
The joys in childhood known.
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