Achsa White Sprague

Nov. 17, 1827 - Jul. 6, 1862


First Lines of Achsa White Sprague

A gallant ship has left the strand, and cleaves the foaming deep,Across the sea,Ah! let the saints be glad in Heaven,All, all is dark! Ten thousand cloudsAt times my soul beneath the powerBeautiful sleep!Bright flowers of the Spring-time!Bury me, friends, where the flowers shall wave,By Babylon's lone river, far in a stranger's land,Deep in the grave,Good-night, good-night! the morning starHark to the waves that rollHe lay upon the battle-field,He speaks beneath his country's flag to-night, --His gallant form is lying onI see them in their beauty once again:I sit me down with troubled thoughts and wildly aching head,I stood within a shadowy-aisledI wait, I wait at the golden gate,I worship at great Nature's shrine,I'll hope no more; -- 'tis all in vain!I'm not ungrateful, though I seemI'm weary of this dull, cold earth,Into the depths of Hades,It was a sadder sight than one would think,Melody, melody! list and ye'll hear!Must I now leave thee, thou homeMy heart was almost breakingNovember winds were loud and high,Now God be praised! for this old world has moved;Oh, take me home! I cannot bearOh, the days of Old, the bright days of Old!See! Aurora's crimson beamShame on the coward souls that bendSing to me some strain enlivening,Sister, our life is but a dream,Strikes it coldly on the heart --Sweet spirit! that lives in my spirit's deep cells,The birds are singing sweetlyThe Eagle sits with drooping wing upon the Southern coast,The Past lifts up its solemn voice:The power is vested in the people;The school-room is deserted now,The sunlight falls across the room,There's a rushing sound like a mighty windThey bid me nerve my drooping soulThey sailed from out the sunriseThey tell me thou art beautiful,To the wanderer give one welcomeWhen men forget their love of gold,When thou hast heard the heart's lone prayer,Who are the beautiful? They with a faceYes, on to the rescue, soldiers all!Yes, suffer if thou must! but oh, be strong,