Poems by Eliza Allen Starr

A shrill fife and a drum's wild beat,
And the throngs on the busy street
Give way;
For with ...

For Mrs. W. H. November 15, 1857. O I could envy thee thy solemn sleep,
Thy sealè d li...

Orion's belt and sword of power
Flash brightly, through the clear, keen night,
And bring to ...

Set it down gently at the altar rail
The faithful, agé d dust with honors meet;
Long h...

No coral beads on costly chain of gold
The Palmer's pious lips at vespers told;
No gauds of ar...

From a crown of pale leaves like the thorny,
Dry crown of the passion,
Springs a fresh, tend...

Break not its sleep, the faithful grief, still tender;
God gives at length His own belov&egra...

1863. SPRING PARK. O'er yon gray crag the still dawn breaks;
The light clouds flush, and morn...

No other symbol ask I at my grave,
Than the rude cross of Him who came to save
My helpless sou...

"Poppies, " she said and sighed;
Sighed, too, as if she needed rest,
This woman in life's b...

On the street,
I hear the crispy tread of snowy feet;
Everywhere,
Through doors, through w...

Eve of October 9th, 1863. All day the clouds had been drifting,
Drifting with wind and with r...

A lonely mortal, wasted, faint, yet staid,
Paused in the deep Cathedral-portal's shade;
Th...

ST. JOSEPH'S COTTAGE. May, 1865. Soft south airs, sweet airs so bland and tender,
Quickening...

A mound of moss, with tiny, mossy blooms
Of red and yellow, streaked and speckled o'er,
And...