| Samuel Kettell, ed. Specimens of American Poetry. 1829. | | | | Psalm CXXXVII | | By Mary E. Brooks |
| | | COME sweep the harp! one thrilling rush | |
| Of all that warm’d its chords to song, | |
| And then the strains for ever hush, | |
| That oft have breathed its wires along: | |
| The ray is quench’d that lit our mirth, | 5 |
| The shrine is gone that claim’d the prayer, | |
| And exiles o’er the distant earth, | |
| How can we wake the carol there? | |
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| One sigh, my harp! and then to sleep, | |
| For all that loved thy song have flown, | 10 |
| Why shouldst thou lonely vigils keep, | |
| Forsaken, broken, and alone? | |
| Let this sad murmur be thy last, | |
| Nor e’er again in music swell; | |
| Thine hours of joyousness are past, | 15 |
| And thus we sever; fare thee well! | | | | |
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