On the Death of Mrs. Fannie S. Gibbons…

THE breath of Spring is nigh–it comes once more
To glad the Earth where Winter’s frown hath been,
And violets their fragrant incense pour
On flowery paths, through dewy meadows green;
But all in vain they smile for us–we mourn
For thee, sweet Blossom, from our bosoms torn.

The birds, gay warblers, flit from tree to tree,
Waking glad melody in forest bowers,
And laughing brooks flow on in sportive glee–
While sunshine crowns the swiftly-passing hours;
Alas! we heed them not: Death’s form hath passed
In at our threshold, since we saw them last.

And thou, with love’s high hopes fresh in thy heart,
Joy’s smile, like sunlight, on thy fair, young brow,
Thou wert the prize won by his cruel dart;
Thine the dear form his ruthless hand laid low–
Oh, ne’er before hath his cold fingers pressed
Their frozen clasp around a purer breast.

Thine was a spirit pure as Summer rose,
When morning wakes its fresh, young leaves to light,
And in thy heart Affection found repose,
While holy thoughts there nestled, warm and bright,
But, like the lily, which rude storms have tried,
Thou bow’dst thy lovely head and meekly died.

Yes, thou art dead! Deep, deep the sod, beneath
Whence Summer violets spring, thou’rt sleeping low.
Say, wilt thou not return when May’s soft breath
O’er timid buds and meek-eyed flow’rets blow?

 

Ah, vain these bitter tears, and vain the prayer
Affection murmurs in its wild despair.

 

Thou’lt not come back to us, though early flowers
Still pour their fragrance on the balmy air;
Though warbling birds make glad Earth’s lonely bowers,
We’ll miss thy voice, dear lost one, everywhere;
Yet Faith will whisper, in low accents sweet,
“There is a clime above, where we may meet.”

 

Oh, from that land of never-fading bloom,
Still bend on us, dear one, thy pitying gaze,
While from the darkness of thy early tomb
We humbly strive our yearning thoughts to raise;
Hover around us, Angel-guide, till we
Shall quit this world to live again with thee.

See more about Fannie, here… and more about the woman who wrote this poem, in an upcoming post.

Tagged: 19th century death poetry, death in the Civil War era, Fannie Shackelford Gibbons, mourning

Posted in: American Civil War, Antebellum Period, Civil War Memory - General, Digital History, Visualizing History