Kate Harrington Poems

Most worthy Patron, Matron, friends,
The blue sky fondly o'er us bends;
This grand old river at our feet
Listens, as if 'twould fain repeat
...

' Come, Nellie !' I cried, on a clear April day,
When the sunbeams kept kissing the shadows away,
' The rainbow has lit on the hill, and, you know,
We might find heaps of gold at the end of the bow.'
...

There is not in the wide world a river as grand
As the one whose bright waves lave my own native land ;
From the dear mother-lake which it leaves with a sigh,
And murmurs, at parting, a tender good-by,
...

While thousands throng each crowded mart,
And gaze around in mute surprise,
I turn with an adoring heart
To thee, fair mirror of the skies.
...

I opened a worn trunk yesterday,
Sitting alone in my quiet room,
And sighed as I saw them folded away, ―
The garments there,― for the form that lay
...

It is dreamy, soft October,
And there's brightness everywhere;
From the golden sheaves of sunlight
Gleaming in broad fields of air,
...

Fever sapped my very life-blood, frenzy fired my tortured brain,
And the friends who watched beside me, felt their lingering hopes were vain.
I was going —going from them, all unconscious of their fears ;
Hastening to the Silent Valley, deaf to moans and blind to tears.
...

Right here, where Indian fires were lighted,
Long, long ago;
Where dusky forms, by rum incited,
Danced wildly to and fro;
...

I'd a dream last night : in the dim twilight
I was thrilled by a strange emotion ;
For the Old Year came, with his withered frame,
And led me on by a torch of flame
...

They recked not of danger, those scoffers of old,
Whom Noah was chosen to warn;
From constant transgression their hearts had grown cold,
And they answered his pleadings with scorn.
...