Classic Poem

Fair Ada! child, a father's heart
Dropt tears of blood for thee;
And felt Affliction's keenest dart,
Athwart the swelling sea: —
Thy dimpled smile, and guileless eye,
Held feelings in control,
Acute as ever heaved a sigh,
Or dwelt within a soul.

And oft he wrung his fevered hands
In deepest misery;
As if his soul would burst its bands,
And be at once with thee.
The wo-born, suffocating sigh
Would struggle in his breast,
And tears dim his expressive eye, —
Too much estranged to rest.

Fair child! the fond parental love
His deathless pages show,
Is such as seraph feels above,
And mortals seldom know.
Affection lacketh words to speak
The anguish of his mind,
Which — though 'twas bold — 'twas true, 'twas meek,
To Ada left behind.

" My child — my child — my Ada dear!
Must I see thee no more?
Oh! God, if she were only here,
This heart were not so sore!"
Such language sighed his troubled soul,
When in a distant clime;
Without a loved-one to condole,
He breathed adieu to Time.