- Alas! how few look back upon their youth,
- Who glean not from the past the unwelcome truth
- That Time, of stealthy step and pinion grey,
- Brings no new joy like that he takes away!
ANNE S. BUSHBY, "A Letter from Home"
- Oh! that "eternal shore,"
- When Death shall be no more!
- How widely differing from this mortal state,
- Where we but draw our earliest breath
- To yield it up again in death,
- Obedient to the unchanging laws of fate!
ANNE S. BUSHBY, "Easter Morning"
- And where, on earth, dwell hope and truth?
- In childhood's uncorrupted heart;
- Alas! too soon to guileless youth
- The world doth its dark code impart!
ANNE S. BUSHBY, "The Morn of Life"
- Still Time, great wizard of this earth,
- Who holds o'er human minds such sway!
- Oft bids to scenes of later birth
- Old recollections to give way.
ANNE S. BUSHBY, "Florinda"