Verses
Written by a Father on a beloved Daughter, Helen—familiarly called
by him “ Elly Pye”—who died 23d May 1839.
I saw her in her infant day,1
Whilst on a mother’s lap she lay ;2
Her smile was heaven—her opening eye3
Reflected deep the azure sky ;4
A happy, happy father I,5
For oh ! how sweet my “ Elly Pye.”6
I saw her in her girlhood sporting,7
To glen and woodland oft resorting ;8
The flowers to cull, the notes to hear9
Of sooty blackbird, whistling near,10
To chase the wavering butterfly,11
With nimble foot—my “ Elly Pye.”12
I saw her in her teens array’d ;13
Not now a girl—not yet a maid ;14
A girlish form, a maiden mind—15
The all but woman, all refined.16
Such once the form that met mine eye,17
And such the soul of “ Elly Pye.”18
I saw her in her twentieth year,19
Accomplish’d, lovely, and sincere ;20
A full-blown rose in bower of bliss—21
A father’s hope, his paradise ;22
My heart was light when she was by—23
My dear, bewitching “ Elly Pye.”24
Her years had number’d twenty-one ;25
Her bloom was fled—her spirits gone—26
Her eye was sunken, sadly clear—27
And dull was now her startled ear ;28
Her
hope was with her God on high,29
Her
heart was mine—my “ Elly Pye.”30
“ The hour of my departure’s come,31
I hear the voice that calls me home ;32
I leave the world without a tear,33
Save for the friends I hold so dear,”34
She whisper’d low, with deadening eye,35
And kissed, and died—my “ Elly Pye.”36
I saw her breathe her latest breath,37
(And, oh ! how beautiful in death !)38
The passions still—the combat o’er—39
And pain and sorrow now no more. 40
I could not weep, I could not sigh,41
But groan’d aloud, “ My Elly Pye.”42
I saw the coffin borne along,43
Amidst the motley, griefless throng ;44
I thought my heart would burst in twain—45
I scarce can feel the like again,46
Till in the grave I come to lie,47
With my own darling “ Elly Pye.”48
One year has pass’d, and still my heart49
Feels all its love and all its smart ;50
There’s not a glen, a wood, or wild,51
That has not seen me weep my child—52
That has not heard my wailing cry,53
“ Oh, where is now my Elly Pye!”54
One year, one circling little year,55
Has pass’d, yet Helen still is dear—56
Dear as when last she blest my love,57
And talked of meeting yet above ;58
Yes, we shall meet again on high,59
My early-sainted “ Elly Pye.”60