Chapter I: Front Matter

THE
MOTHER'S DREAM,
AND
OTHER POEMS.

BY
HANNAH F. GOULD.

BOSTON:
CROSBY, NICHOLS, & CO.
1853.

CONTENTS.

Page

Blowing Bubbles, 1
Infant Faith, 4
Patty Proud, 6
I caught a Bird, 9
The Flower of Shells and Silver Wire, 11
The little Blind Boy, 12
The Sale of the Water Lily, 13
The Silver Birdsnest, 18
The Quaker Flower, 20
The Humming-Bird's Anger, 22
The Sabbath, 24
The departing Spirit, 26
Sonnet, 27
Father, hear, 28
The Pilgrim's Way Song, 29
The rising Monument, 31
A Name in the Sand, 34
A Child of a Year and a Day, 35
The Believer's Mountains, 38
The Night and the Morning, 41
I shall be satisfied, 44
The Penitential Tear, 46
The Teachings of God, 48
The Herald's Cry in the Desert, 50
Our Father's Well, 52
The Mother's Dream, 56
The War Spirit on Bunker's Height, 60
The inner Self, 64
Time, 67
My Head, 71
The Wheat Field, 74
The little Traveller, 76
The entangled Fly, 78
The Peach Blossoms, 80
The broken Pipe, 82
Vivy Vain, 85
The Mocking-Bird, 89
The Bird's Home, 92
The Bird uncaged, 93
Dame Biddy, 95
The envious Lobster, 100
Kit with the Rose, 102
The Storm in the Forest, 104
The uprooted Elm, 106
Through the Clouds, 108
My Rose Tree, 110
The Infant Baptist, 113
Hymn to Solitude, 115
The Bible in the Fields, 117
The hoary Head, 120
My Father, 121
A Sage hath departed, 124
The Burial of Schiller, 126
Funeral Hymn for President Harrison, 129
Dirge for Felicia Hemans, 131
She died, as dawned her Natal Day, 133
Written in an Album, after the Lines of a deceased Friend, 134
The Sovereign of Babylon, 135
The Deer Stricken by Torch-light, 137
The Death of Sapphira, 139
William at Sea, 142
My Portrait, 146
The Widow's only Son, 148
The Young Mother, 150
Evening at Andover Seminary Hill, 152
Hymn of the parting Class, 155
The speckled 157
The Moon of a Wintry Night, 161
Tom Tar, 165
The Seaman's Hymn, 170
The Mariner's Song of Departure, 172
The Sea Eagle's Fall, 174
The caged Lion, 177
The Traveller at the Red Sea, 179
The Hebrew Captives, 181
Fragments from "Esther," a Poem, 182
Gone in her Beauty, 185
The Nun, 187
Trees for the Pilgrim's Wreath, 193
The Mushroom's Soliloquy, 194
The Spirit and the Mountain, 195
The Fall of the Statue, 197
The Bird's Maternal Care, 201
Song, 205
The White Moth, 207
Edward and Charles, 209
Music of the Crickets, 213
Childhood's Dream, 216
The Fruit Tree Blossom, 218
The Plymouth Apple declined, 220
The half Apple, 222
The Horticulturist's Table-Hymn, 224
The Whip-poor-will, 227
The Autumnal Rose-bud, 230
To L. A. E. on her Wedding-day, 231
To Mrs. H. F. L. 233
Music, 235

POEMS.

BLOWING BUBBLES.

Half our sorrows, half our troubles,
Making head and heart to ache,
Are the fruit of blowing bubbles,
Bright to view, but quick to break.

All have played the child imbecile,
Breathing hard to swell the sides
Of a shining, fluid vessel,
Frailer than the air it rides.

From the infant's cradle rising,
All the bubble mania show,
Oft our richest wealth comprising
In the bubbles that we blow.

Brilliant, buoyant, upward going,
Pleased, we mark them in their flight,
Every hue of iris showing,
As they glance along the light.

Little castles, high and airy,
With their crystal walls so thin,
Each presents the wicked fairy,
_Vanity_, enthroned within!

But when two have struck together,
What of either do we find?
Not so much as one gay feather
Flying Hope has left behind!

Still the world are busy, blowing,
Every one, some empty ball;
So the seeds of mischief sowing,
Where, to burst, the bubbles fall.

Nor for self alone to gather,
Is our evil harvest found;
Oft, with pipe and cup, we rather
Step upon our neighbor's ground.

Thus, amusing one another,
While the glistening playthings rise,
We may doom a friend or brother
To a life of care and sighs.

Do you doubt my simple story?
I can point a thousand ways
Where this bubble-making glory
Has in darkness hid its rays!

Yet we 'll spare a slight confusion
Caused the world by giving names;
Since a right to some delusion
Every one from nature claims!

INFANT FAITH.

Radiant with his spirit's light
Was the little beauteous child,
Sporting round a fountain bright,
Playing through the flowerets wild.

Where they grow he lightly stepped,
Cautious not a leaf to crush;
Then about the fount he leaped,
Shouting at its merry gush.

While the sparkling waters welled,
Laughing as they bubbled up,
In his lily hands he held,
Closely clasped, a silver cup.

Now he put it forth to fill;
Then he bore it to the flowers,
Through his fingers there to spill
What it held, in mimic showers.

"Open, pretty buds," said he,
"Open to the air and sun;
So, to-morrow I may see
What my rain to-day has done.

"Yes, you will, you will, I know,
For the drink I give you now,
Burst your little cups, and blow,
When I'm gone, and can't tell how!

"Oh! I wish I could but see
How God's finger touches you,
When your sides unclasp, and free,
Let your leaves and odors through.

"I would watch you all the night,
Nor in darkness be afraid,
Only once to see aright
How a beauteous flower is made.

"Now remember! I shall come
In the morning from my bed,
Here to find among you some
With your brightest colors spread!"

To his buds he hastened out,
At the dewy morning hour,
Crying, with a joyous shout,
"God has made of each a flower!"

Precious must the ready faith
Of the little children be,
In the sight of Him, who saith,
"Suffer them to come to me."

Answered, by the smile of heaven,
Is the infant's offering found,
Though "a cup of water given,"
Even to the thirsty ground.

PATTY PROUD.

The figure before you is Miss Patty Proud:
Her feelings are lowery, her frown like a cloud;
Because proud Miss Patty can hardly endure
To come near the lowly abode of the poor.

She fears the plain floor of the humble will spoil
Her silk shoes and hose, and her skirt-bottom soil;
And so she goes winching; and holds up her dress
So high, it were well if her heels would show less.

But when she walks through the fine streets of the town,
She puts on fine airs, and displays her rich gown;
Till some, whom she passes, will think of the bird
Renowned for gay feathers, whose name you have heard.

In thought she is trifling--in manner as vain
As that silly fowl, taking pride in his train;
And none, who have marked her, will need to be told
That she has a heart hard, and haughty, and cold.

I saw, when she met some poor children one day,
Who asked her for alms, she turned frowning away;
And told them, "Poor people must work, to be fed,
And not trouble ladies, to help them to bread."

And just as the sad little mendicants said,
Their mother was dying, their father was dead,
She entered a store, with a smooth, smiling face,
To lay out her purse in gay ribbons and lace.

I saw her curl up her sour lip in disdain,
Because Ellen Pitiful picked up the cane,
A feeble old man had let fall in the sand,
And placed it again in his tremulous hand.

But little does haughty Miss Patty suppose,
Of all, whom she visits, that any one knows
How stern she can look, when she 's out of their sight,
And fret at the servants, if all is not right.

At home, she 's unyielding, and sullen, and cross:
Her friends, when she 's absent, esteem it no loss;
And some, where she visits, in secret confess,
That they love her no more, though they dread her much less.

The truth is, Miss Patty, when young, never tried
To govern her temper, or conquer her pride.
The passions, unchecked in the heart of the child,
Like weeds in a garden neglected, ran wild.

They grew with her growth, with her strength became strong:
Her head, not then righted, has ever been wrong;
And so she would never submit to be told
Of faults, by long habit made stubborn and bold.

And now, among all my young friends, is there one,--
A fair little girl is there under the sun,
Who 'd rise to a woman, and have it allowed
That she is a likeness of Miss PATTY PROUD?