American poet (1838-1895)
The beautiful feet of the summer,
So late by the woodland and rill,
With slow, lingering movement are going
Down the brown, southern slopes of the hills;
Her dreamy-eyed sister, the autumn,
Looks down at the summer-clad trees,
And, 'neath her cool breathing, a garment
Of brown is put on by the leaves.
MARY T. LATHRAP
"The Parting with Summer"
What tho' the clouds are o'er us?
They cannot quench the flame
That burns in freemen's bosoms--
'Tis deathless as his name;
Another year, and brightly
Shall shine our clouded sun,
No shadow o'er our country,
The land of Washington.
MARY T. LATHRAP
"Our Hero's Fatal Day"
Man puts his proud heel on the heart of his brother,
And smiles at the work he has done;
And the wrongs that cry up to a pitying Heaven,
Might blot from its arches the sun.
MARY T. LATHRAP
"Man's Work in God's World"
Love's dream, too, knows decay;
Awhile the soul-harp's wildly thrilling strain
Pours out those notes we ne'er forget again,
And the deep fountains of the heart burst forth
As if to gladden every spot of earth;
But O! it will not stay.
MARY T. LATHRAP
"Song of the Earth-Weary"
Thou wishest fame! ambition in thy soul
Bids thee toil onward to the distant goal,
And holds the dazzling prize before the view,
Fought for by many; gained by ah, how few!
MARY T. LATHRAP
"To One Who Wishes Fame"
When we see an old tree dying
Slowly in the solemn wood,
To decay the proud strength yielding
That a century has stood,
We look on, and sadly wonder
At the mighty wreck of time,
As its potent finger traces
Sure destruction, line by line.
MARY T. LATHRAP
"We Shall Know Hereafter"
It is beautiful, all, in its going,
This wonderful, sweet summer time;
The leaflets glide down through the sunshine,
As poets thoughts glide into rhyme.
Sweet Summer looks over her shoulder,
And whispers once more her farewells--
I wonder if Peace will come with her
When her feet are again on the hills.
MARY T. LATHRAP
"The Parting with Summer"
Alas for my country, thy evergreen valleys,
Are wet with a tide that is red,
Alas for thy hills for they shudd'ringly cover
War's sacrifice, bloody and dread!
MARY T. LATHRAP
"Man's Work in God's World"
The meek stars are brightening up heaven's blue deep,
The low winds are rocking the flowers to sleep,
And the leaflet's soft, rustling melody seems
Like some echo that comes from a beautiful dream.
MARY T. LATHRAP
"Evening"
Each heart has its graveyard, each household its dead,
And knells ring around us wherever we tread,
And the feet that awhile made our pathway so bright
Pass on to a land that is out of our sight.
MARY T. LATHRAP
"Unfinished Lines"