Archive for the ‘Grief’ Tag

Sleep, My Darling   Leave a comment

Above:  An Unidentified Cemetery in Georgia

Photograph Taken by W. E. . DuBois, 1899

Image Source = Library of Congress



(This piece was adapted to a little air which I “picked up,” but whose name I do not recollect; yet, as I know nothing of music, I can’t say whether my song meets the requirements of the art or not.  T.)

1.  Darling, I to-day have strayed

To the place where thou art laid;

And with drooping flowers that wave,

I am weeping o’er thy grave.


Sleep, my darling, sweetly sleep,

Torn tho’ from my fond embrace;

I a lover’s vigil keep

O’er thy lone, last resting place.

2.  Thou art hidden from mine eyes,

Thou art deaf to all my cries;

But I feel thy spirit near,

And I know that thou art here.


3.  Peaceful, darling, by thy rest,

Light the Sod upon thy breast;

And till ‘yond the grave we meet,

Here shall be my oft retreat.



Posted September 12, 2012 by neatnik2009 in Death and/or Grief, John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Love 1800s

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Jennie Lee   Leave a comment

Above:  The Countess Barlow (1879), by Frederick Leighton

Perfumes from the vernal blowth,

Fraught the air when by yon river,

With confirming kiss we both

Vowed our hears each others’ ever.

Thus we met and thus we parted,

Like two bubbles on the sea,

I still roam, but whence she started,

God has called sweet Jennie Lee.


When the leaves began to fade,

And the flowers to drop their bloom,

Then she faded, and we laid

Her with them low in the tomb,

At the foot of yonder hill,

‘Neath that weeping-willow tree,

Hard by yonder murm’ring rill

Sleeps my darling, Jennie Lee.


Swift as mist from off the mountain,

Swift as flies the Indian’s dart,

Fleet as spray lashed from the fountain,

I beheld my joys depart.

Other arms may yet embrace me,

But they never shall erase thee

From my memory, Jennie Lee.


The Despondent Lover’s Lament   Leave a comment

Above:  Woman with Parrot (La Femme a la Perruche), by Philippe-Auguste Renoir


It seems that my great-grandfather had some disappointments with love when he was a young man.   I arrive at this conclusion based on poems he chose to publish in 1883.



As two floating specks of foam

Every hour we further sever–

Come back, O! my darling, come,

Little more we part forever.


Was I right?  Oh! can it be

It was true what I foretold,

That when thou wast gone from me

Thou’d forget and soon grow cold?


Then I did not hink it so

Then my tongue my heart belied,

But a voice now clear, tho’ low,

Says I rightly prophesied.


What!  do all thy sacred vows

Now but idle babblings seem?

Has the love thou didst espouse

Proven but an empty dream?


Have the joys that we have known

Clasped in mutual embrace,

From thy recollection flown

Giving kindred joys a place?


When the rebel angels fell,

By Jehovah’s vengeance driven,

Hell had been a milder hell

Had they never been in heaven.


Thus my hours of loneliness

Half so gloomy would not be

Had I power to suppress

Mem’ry of the past with thee.


From their mem’ry I can borrow

Only grief, ’tis all it lends;

For it is a kindred sorrow

To that for departed friends.


Ah! how sweet were they, the shadow

Of what shall be real made;

But this truth stings like an adder:

They were shadows of a shade.


Thus those hours, so sweetly gliding,

Shall be chains to ever bin’

Or shall be a gulf dividing,

Ever twixt my heart and thine.


So it is–would ’twere not so–

Love transformed but loathing brings;

And the deepest hatreds flow

From Love’s purest, sweetest springs.


Deadliest hate that e’er resided

In a heart of any grade,

Is of hearts that once confided,

And, confiding, were betrayed.


Oh! my darling, would they have me

Ever thus from thee to go?

Then don’t take the heart thou gave me,

Or it will, it must, be so.


Weeping   11 comments


Pour tu, m’amie!


I weep

for a friend,

for what she has lost,

for what I have lost,

for what has ended.


I weep

as I sort and put away

candle holders I have cleaned

and candles I think she might like one day.


I weep

for what I have had to do

to help her in her absence.


I weep

for her absence.

I miss her

and the person she used to be.


I hope

that her future will be better for her,

yet that is yet to come.

What was

prompts me to weep.

What is

causes me to cry.



After having helped pack up a friend’s possessions in a house on which a bank will foreclose in a week


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Memories at a Moving Sale for a Friend   11 comments

Today a small group of mutual friends,

including me,

gathered to host a moving sale at the soon-to-be former home of a friend.

We did the hard work;

she did not have to be there,

and she was elsewhere,

trying to build a better future for herself.


The sale was difficult for me,

for I have many memories associated with almost every space.

There, since July 2009,

I had noticed interesting pictures,

watched movies,

attended birthday parties,

stoked fires in the fireplace,



helped with housework,

consumed a little too much wine,

experienced good times,

and experienced frustrating times.

There, when my friend was away for a few days,

I housesat for her.

It seems that my visits in that space have ended.


I gave my friend items over the years;

Today I watched people buy many of them.


I weep for what was.

May what follows for my friend be far better for her.




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