Read Ebook: Withered Leaves from Memory's Garland by Hanna Abigail Stanley

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Ebook has 1750 lines and 91627 words, and 35 pages

The Mother and her Child

A Mother's Prayer

Lines in an Album

On the Death of a Mother

The Music of Earth

On the Death of Mrs. C.P. Baldwin

Lines written in a Sick Room, April 15th, 1855

Lines written in a Sick Room, July 20th, 1855

To a Friend

The Mother's Watch

A Picture of Human Life

Death

Lines written upon the Death of Two Sisters

Lines for a Friend upon the 20th Anniversary of her Birthday

Human Thought

Lines written upon the Departure of a Brother

Lines on the Death of a Friend

The Power of Custom

Annie Howard

We all do Perish like the Leaf

Life Compared to the Seasons

Writing Composition

Lines written in Answer to the Question "Where is our Poet?"

My Husband's Grave

Lines written upon the Young who have recently died in our Village

Conscience

Lines written in an Album

Lines from the pen of my Husband, who is Deceased

Hope

Visit to Mount Auburn

Lines from Mary to her Father in California, with her Daguerreotype

A Reminiscence

Letter of Resignation from Mrs. Hanna to the Maternal Association

Improvement of Time

Lines written on the Death of Frank

The Pleasures of Memory

The Song of the Weary One

Lines inscribed to a Brother

Changes

The Spirits of the Dead

To Mrs. J.C. Bucklin, by her Father

The Widow's Home

To the Reader

WITHERED LEAVES.

Shadows of the Past

Sister, the solemn midnight hour Is meet, to weave the web of thought, To trace the shadowy imagery, From fancy's secret chambers brought.

To enter Memory's hidden cell, And bid the sentinel appear; Her strange, mysterious tales to tell, And wipe the dust from by-gone years.

To wander back down time's dark stream, And from its margin pluck the flowers, To twine them with the moon's pale beams, Then fling them over Memory's bow'rs.

To gather all the fragments up, The phantoms chase of other years; Their blighted joys, their withered hopes, Their clouds, their sunshine, and their tears.

We'll wander forth while others sleep, Fanned gently by the night wind's sigh And thus our midnight vigils keep, While night's fair lamps burn bright on high.

We'll wander in the realms of thought, That boundless space, who may define? From which more dazzling gems are brought Than sparkle in Golconda's mine.

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