This day my loved one leaves me, and my heart
Is heavy with its grief: the streams of sorrow,
Choked at the source, repress my faltering voice.
I have no words to speak; mine eyes are dimmed
By the dark shadows of the thoughts that rise
Within my soul. If such the force of grief
In an old hermit parted from his nursling,
What anguish must the stricken parent feel
Bereft forever of an only daughter!
Weep not my daughter, check the gathering tear
That lurks beneath thine eyelid, ere it flow
And weaken thy resolve; be firm and true--
True to thyself and me, the path of life
Will lead o'er hill and plain, o'er rough and smooth,
And all must feel the steepness of the way,
Tho' rugged be thy course, press boldly on.
Honor thy betters; even be respectful
To those above thee. Should thy wedded lord
Treat thee with harshness, thou must never be
Harsh in return, but patient and submissive.
Be to thy menials courteous, and to all
Placed under thee considerate and kind:
Be never self-indulgent, but avoid
Excess in pleasure; and, when fortune smiles
Be not puffed up. Thus to thy husband's house
Wilt thou a blessing prove, and not a curse.
439
See here it is dawning
Another bright day:
Think wilt thou let it
Slip uselessly away?
440
He mourns the dead who lives as they desire.
--_Dr. E. Young._
441
One of the Fathers said: "That there is but this difference between the
death of old and young men,--that old men go to death, and death comes
to young men."
--_Bacon._
442