1.
An exile, ill in heart and frame,--
A wanderer, weary of the way;--
A stranger, without love's sweet claim
On any heart, go where I may!
Frances Sargent Osgood
2.
No grief so soft, no pain so sweet, as love's delicious melancholy.
Frances Sargent Osgood
3.
And wheresoever, in his rich creation,
Sweet music breathes--in wave, or bird, or soul--
'Tis but the faint and far reverberation
Of that great tune to which the planets roll!
Frances Sargent Osgood
4.
Better confide and be deceiv'd,
A thousand times, by treacherous foes,
Than once accuse the innocent,
Or let suspicion mar repose.
Frances Sargent Osgood
5.
Labor is life! 'Tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;
Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth.
Frances Sargent Osgood
6.
To hallow'd duty
Here with a loyal and heroic heart,
Bind we our lives.
Frances Sargent Osgood
7.
He whom nature thus bereaves,
Is ever fancy's favourite child;
For thee enchanted dreams she weaves
Of changeful beauty, bright and wild.
Frances Sargent Osgood
8.
Call me names, dearest! Call me thy bird
That flies to thy breast at one cherishing word,
That folds its wild wings there, ne'er dreaming of flight,
That tenderly sings there in loving delight!
Oh! my sad heart keeps pining for one fond word,--
Call me pet names, dearest! Call me thy bird!
Frances Sargent Osgood
9.
And yet we check and chide
The airy angels as they float about us,
With rules of so-called wisdom, till they grow
The same tame slaves to custom and the world.
Frances Sargent Osgood
10.
Labor is rest--from the sorrow that greet us;
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us,
Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us,
Rest from the world-sirens that hire us to ill.
Work--and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow;
Work--thou shalt ride over Care's coming billow;
Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow!
Work with a stout heart and resolute will!
Frances Sargent Osgood
11.
With strength to meet sorrow, and faith to endure
Frances Sargent Osgood
12.
Love is the greatest of educators.
Frances Sargent Osgood
13.
Within the oyster's shell uncouth
The purest pearl may hide,
Trust me you'll find a heart of truth
Within that rough outside.
Frances Sargent Osgood
14.
Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow; work with a stout heart and resolute will.
Frances Sargent Osgood
15.
Labor! all labor is noble and holy!
Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God.
Frances Sargent Osgood
16.
Did you ever hear
Of the frolic fairies dear?
They're a blessed little race,
Peeping up in fancy's face,
In the valley, on the hill,
By the fountain and the rill;
Laughing out between the leaves
That the loving summer weaves.
Frances Sargent Osgood
17.
Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us; from all the petty vexations that meet us; from the sin-promptings that assail us; from the world-sirens that lure us to ill
Frances Sargent Osgood
