Achsa White Sprague

Nov. 17, 1827 - Jul. 6, 1862

 

To A Bunch Of Violets In My Sick Room

by Achsa White Sprague

Bright flowers of the Spring-time!
I see ye once more,
With thy beauty as peerless
As ever before.

O'er the reign of stern Winter
Bright Spring has the sway,
She has broken the ice-chains
That bound thee, away.

And my heart feels more joyful
To gaze on thee now,
Though the hand of pale sickness
Is laid on my brow.

Oh, I cannot but love thee,
Bright, beautiful flowers!
For thou bring'st me bright visions
Of sweet, sunny hours; --

Of the hours when I rambled
Among the green bowers,
Where thy blossoms lay hidden
By green leaves and flowers.

Oh, ye seem like an old friend,
In beauty and power,
That clings only closer
In sorrow's dark hour!

An early poem, composed during sickness.

Source:

The Poet And Other Poems.
Copyright 1864
Boston: William White And Co.,
158 Washington Street.
 
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