Poem by Maria Jane Jewsbury

The Dove of the Valley

     Ezekiel vii. 16.

ART thou an emblem, gentle, guileless bird,
Of human hearts lamenting sin and strife?
And gladly as thy low sweet song is heard,
Are groaning prayers hailed in the land of life?
Yes, Heaven unfrowning, hears each bitter tale,
The world's proud anger would command to cease;
Listens to guilt and grief, as in the vale
We, thy blent strain of pensiveness and peace.
O joy, O glory, wondrous, and yet true,
That softest love with mightiest power may live!
Wrath quench its thunderbolts in Mercy's dew,
And God receive whom man will scarce forgive!
Then, wounded bird, struck by the archer Sin,
Frail, erring, wounded, weary human heart,
Flee where the healer waits to take thee in,
But oh! from earth's dark vale depart! depart!

1. Where Dwelleth Yesterday?
2. World, Hence with Thy Baubles
3. The Oceanides. No. 9. The Eden of the Sea
4. The Syren World
5. Now Mine Eyes Seeth Thee

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