The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker/Recollection

Soon as the gilded clouds of evening fly, And Luna lights her taper in the sky, The silent thought inspiring solemn scene Awakes my soul to all that it has been. I was the parent of the softest fair Who ere respir'd in wide Columbia's air; A transient glance of her love beaming eyes Convey'd into the soul a paradise. How has my cheek with rapture been suffus'd, When sunk upon my bosom she repos'd? I envied not the ermin'd prince of earth, Nor the gay spirit of æriel birth; Nor the bright angel circumfus'd with light, While the sweet charmer liv'd to bless my sight.

What art thou now, my love!---a few dry bones, Unconscious of my unavailing moans: Oh! my Abella! oh! my bursting heart Shall never from thy dear idea part! Thro' Death's cold gates thine image will I bear, And mount to heav'n, and ever love thee there.