The first poem we have selected, entitled "Retrospection," appears to have been written in 1809--when a severe illness threatened the life of her husband. In the frame of mind natural under such circumstances, she recalls the principal sorrows of her life, and among them there was none more poignant than the loss of an only child, a daughter of eighteen years old. The closing lines will indicate the source to which she was accustomed to look in the season of human affliction.
Why should mysterious Heaven bestow A warm and feeling heart-- Yet doom it naught but pain to know, And rankle in its smart?
That it might agonize and bleed At every suffering pore, The soft affections why decreed To centre in its core?
The tender ties my heart has proved That heart has held most dear, And those most dearly, fondly loved, Have cost the bitterest tear!
A tender parent's weeping nurse My early youth I pass'd; And Heaven did but those tears disperse To bid them flow more fast:
For rich in worth, a youth appear'd-- I gave my virgin heart; But Hymen scarce our vows endeared Ere we were doomed to part:
He, through war's ravaged fields to roam Eight sad revolving years-- I, droop'd, a widow'd wife at home, In unavailing tears: But ah! the pang was yet to feel, (The worst the heart can know,) The pang no earthly power can heal, The climax of all woe!
To me a cherub fair was given, I placed it next my heart; It seemed the choicest gift of Heaven-- My bosom's dearest part: While yet I mark'd each opening charm That graced its baby brow, Disease approach'd, in direful form, To lay each promise low.
And oh! how worse than death to see The ruins of a mind, Which, in its dawning, seem'd to be For better hopes design'd; To watch with anxious hopes and fears The daily deep'ning gloom, Till eighteen sad and suffering years Had laid her in the tomb.
Though keen the parting pang I felt, And did my child deplore; Yet soon in gratitude I knelt-- _Her_ sufferings were no more. My mind's composure once regain'd, A competence still ours; My loved companion, too, remain'd To cheer my lonely hours:
Fondly I hoped life's evening shade Might yet in peace descend, And grief no more my heart invade Till closing life should end.