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Full Online Book HomePoemsThe Orphan's Good-bye
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The Orphan's Good-bye Post by :griffijl Category :Poems Author :Margaret Moran D. Mcdougall Date :November 2011 Read :3456

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The Orphan's Good-bye

When my heart was sad and lonely,
And had closed its inmost cell
Over the impulsive feelings
That rule my nation's hearts too well.

When the tie was cut asunder,
That had bound me to a home,
And I felt the desolation
Of being in the world alone;

When I first, the veil assuming,
Masked before a treacherous world,
And the hopes romance expanded
Reality had sternly furled;

And the touch of disappointment,
Blighted what was green and fair,
And the spirit's bright revealings
Are not so hopeful as they were.

Precious are the words of kindness,
Falling on the heart like dew,
Freshening though, alas for weakness,
They cannot make things new.

Thoughts come warm from that deep fountain
Where the hidden feelings dwell,
First to thank thee, noble stranger,
Then to say a kind farewell.


(The end)
Margaret Moran D. McDougall's poem: Orphan's Good-Bye

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To Annie On Her Birthday To Annie On Her Birthday

To Annie On Her Birthday
Sister, sweet sister, years have passed away, Since first, 'mid warm hearts, sunny, frank and true,I commenced rhyming on thy natal day, On the green sod where Erin's shamrock grew.'Twas in that age that ne'er returns again, Whose tears are but as dew on Summer flowers;And young, warm hearts beat kindly round us then, And eyes beamed brightly, answering love to oursAnd now an exile from my native land, Thinking of well remembered, loved Grace Hill,To mine own sister verses I will send, Worthless, yet proving that I love her stillIt is thy birthday, and

To J W To J W

To J W
Dear Jane you say you will gather flowersTo win if you may a verse from meCan you bring to me those brillant hoursWhen life was gladdened by poesy?Bring me the rose with pearls on her breast,Dropped down as tears from early skies,Pale lilies gather among the restAnd little daisies, with starry eyesThe heart's-ease bring for many a dayIn vain for that flow'ret fair I soughtTurn not your gathering hand awayFrom the wee blue flower, forget me notUnless inspiration on them restIn vain you tempt me to rise and singThe passage bird that sang in my breastHas fled away with my life's