"On the death of Thomas Seleski Waterman" by A.M.N. (1843)

LINES.

        On the death of THOMAS SELESKI, only child of William and Almira Waterman, who died, March 12th, 1843. Mr. Waterman being absent at the time rendered the circumstances more affecting.

And is he gone! the gay and laughing boy,

Whose bounding step, seemed on the breezes borne.

His Father's idol, and the brightest joy

Of her, whose heart successive griefs had worn:

Her who had clung with such unearthly love,

To one who woke the sweetest hopes of bliss,

While hovering 'round him like a lonely dove;

Ah, little thought she of an hour like this—

While his glad voice she hailed at early day,

And gazed delighted on his sparkling eye,

And thought on him, they loved, now far away,—

She never dreamed her cherished one—would die.

As some tall flower that bows its stately head,

Scathed and blasted, by the lightning's wing,

While heaven's refreshing dews were o'er it shed,

And it was fanned by the rich breath of spring—

Tho' those she loved, did her so early fade,

The God who formed them, for bright worlds on high,

Removed them gently to a holier shade,

To live and bloom beneath a purer sky;

Oh may she bow submissive to the will

Of Him, who doth our destinies control;

And while she feels that death had power to kill,

May she rejoice—immortal is the soul. A. M. N.

Daily Troy Budget. April 17, 1843: 2 col 6.

Thomas Seleski Waterman is interred somewhere in Old Mount Ida Cemetery:

"Thomas S. Waterman, d. March 12, 1843, 9 yr. 1 mo. 12 dy."

http://www.onentofl.com/tcsnyrenTROYmida11.html

"Lines upon the death of a young friend Charles Freddie Atwood" (1863)

Obituary

Lines upon the death of a young friend, Charles Freddie Atwood—Respectfully dedicated to his Mother.

God gave, and He has taken,

        One that we so dearly loved;

But we hope one day to meet him

        In his heavenly home above.

Young, bright and beautiful,

        Though unto manhood grown;

The hope, pride, joy of our life,

        God called him for His own.

Our hearts were bound to thee, dear one,

        The link was hard to sever;

Though while we linger here on earth

        We will forget thee, never.

Farewell, Freddie; 'tis hard to part.

        But like a hallowed spell,

Thy image ever in our heart

        With love and faith shall dwell.

Troy Daily Times. May 11, 1863: 3 col 4.

"Lines on the Death of an Infant" by Orville (1860)

Lines on the Death of an Infant

Dear parents, check the flowing tear:

No longer weep for me;

What though the blow may be severe,

Remember, I am free.

Bright angels on the wings of love,

Came from the spirit land,

Inviting me to realms above,

To sit at God's right hand.

I enter on eternal life,

Amid the heavenly spheres,

Free from the world's vain sinful strife,

Free from its toils and cares.

Perennial flowers around me bloom

Whose beauties ne'er decay;

I sleep not in the silent tomb,

But live in endless day.

'Mid scenes of bliss I ever roam—

Then weep no more for me,

For, oh! I have a glorious home

Throughout eternity.

And we shall meet again, oh, yes;

A few more years of pain,

Then we shall meet 'mid scenes of bliss,

And never part again.                ORVILLE.

NAIL FACTORY, February 29.

Troy Daily Times. March 3, 1860: 3 col 6.

"Lines on the death of James L. Henry" by M. (1842)

LINES

On the death of JAMES L. HENRY.

O ye heavenly angels your wings spread space,

        And convey consolation most healing to those,

Now bewailing for him whom they ne'er can replace;

        For he sleeps in delightful and placid repose.

'Tis a husband, a father, protector, and friend,

        That Jehovah, the Great, has been pleased to recall,

From this valley of tears—never more to contend

        With its troubles—its sin, the most fearful of all.

He has gone just in manhood's meridian bloom,

        When his sun was just rising most brilliant & bright,

To the dismal, the dark, and oblivious tomb,

        From the friend of his heart—he, her soul and delight.

But the spirit has flown to those mansions above,

        Where the upright, the honest, the dutiful, blest,

Are commingling together in friendship and love,

        Where bles'd angels reside and the weary at rest.

Troy, April. 1842. M.

Daily Troy Budget. April 2, 1842: 2 col 6.

Dr James Lawrence Henry (1815-1842)

http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=121727988

"Abraham Lincoln" by James S. Thorn (1865)

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

BY JAMES S. THORN.

There are little knots on the corners to-day,

        And with bated breath they utter

Not alone a dirge o'er th' inanimate clay,

        But avenging whispers mutter.

There are aching hearts in the households to-night;

        There are eyes that are red with weeping;

And tender hearts, oh not bursting quite,

        In the gall of despair are steeping.

They are sobbing to-day on the old camp-ground,

        And spirits undaunted by foeman,

That trembled not when the battery frowned,

        Are blanched as the cheek of woman.

Comes a Nation's wail o'er her prostrate son;

        For her joy has been changed to sorrow;

She fears there's the dusk of doubt begun,

        And alas! who can tell the morrow?

So pure and so great, aye, so grandly good,

        Sic semper tyrannis belies him:

Greatest of living men he stood;

        Dying, the world shall prize him.

Though the head lies low, yet the body lives:

        There are heart-strings that death cannot sever:

HE taketh away, but yet HE gives,

        And the Union shall stand forever.

We are tasting to-day of the bitter cup:

        Oh lesson, we heed thy warning;

We know but ONE who can lift us up:

        'Tis night, it will yet be morning.

The dead of to-day will grow divine

        Like the martyrs of ancient story,

And with Washington's, Lincoln's name shall shine

        On the scroll of our country's glory.

                                Troy Daily Times. Saturday, April 15th, 1865.

A Tribute of Respect by the Citizens of Troy to the Memory of Abraham Lincoln. Troy, NY: Young & Benson, 1865. 27-28.

A version of the poem with some different verses appeared in Magazine of History with Notes and Queries. 17(65). 1920. 37.

James S. Thorn (1838-1866)

Oakwood Cemetery, Troy, NY

http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=90313553

"Troy" by Col. William H. Rowe, Jr.

Troy

Once again the dear old town

        To me of so much joy;

Here's another toast to you,

        And to the men of the City of Troy.

Here's to John Dou, Frank Mann, the Shields,

        Arthur Smith, Frank Twining and Hi Gordinier;

May everything in life come to them,

        And all that they hold dear.

Here's to Editor James H. Potts, the Thomases,

        The Darlings, the Fellows and Roy Brown;

May they get all their desires,

        And all the best in town.

May it be sweetest of music,

        Yes, the sweetest songs of the larks,

For Le Grand Cramer, the Hawleys, the Moreys,

        Harry Ludlow and R. Edson Starks.

Here's to Frank Norton, Henry Wheeler, John Knox,

        John MacNamara, the Warners and Walter Mead;

May they have all the good of life,

        And be blessed with the kindliest deed.

Here's to Doctor Gordinier, George Alden, the Tibbits,

        Edward M. Green and the Blosses, Doctors J. P. and Fred;

Wherever it is, wherever they go,

        May they all come out ahead.

Here's to the Winslows, the Bradleys, the Williamsons,

        The Hagans, the Jacobs, Knowlson and Kings;

May all sorts of luck be borne to them,

        Yes, borne on the swiftest of wings.

The Greens, the Corlisses, the Crandells,

        The Bushes, the Griffiths and the Connors;

May all the best in life be theirs,

        May they win all coveted honors.

Here's to Doctors Fairweather, Bissell, Green,

        Buchanan, Cooper, Booth, Bontecou;

Here's the highest medical honors,

        My wish for each one of you.

Here's to the servants of God in Troy,

        They stand ready to answer each call;

Walsh, Freeman, Enos, Simmons,

        Anderson, Mead, Babcock and Hall.

Here's to the Colwells, the Hayners, the Specks,

        The Betts, the Drapers and all;

I wish I could think of every one

        On whom I would like to call.

Rowe, William H., Jr. Verse and Toast. Vol. 2. Albany, NY: J.B. Lyon, 1908. 96-97.

"Lines to the Memory of Esaias Warren Esq" by John W. Curtis (1829)

To the memory of ESAIAS WARREN, ESQ., of Troy, N.Y. a liberal benefactor of the Sunday School Union.

                Una salus ambobus erit. Virg.

I stood upon the burial-ground

        That lies o'er Ida's hill;

The sun was going calmly down,

        And earth and heaven were still;

No sound, save that of Poesten's fall,

        Deep down his dark ravine;

And shades began, o'er Ida's brow,

        To lengthen o'er the scene.

Beneath my feet lay many a friend

        That I had loved full well,

Now dwelling in that narrow house

        Where all are doomed to dwell.

And I beheld a new-made grave,

        That stood enclosed with one

Which I had often wet with tears—

        Thine, Warren! Sire and Son!

Alas! that I who sung so late

        The patriarch sire's decease,

So soon should raise a requiem

        For thee and thy release—

But there ye slumber side by side,

        The sainted son and sire;

Like yonder evening's sun ye set—

        God's chosen thus expire.

The tenor of your lives the same,

        The same in death your peace;

The same salvation winged each soul

        To joys that may not cease;

And now with saints of ages past

        In paradise ye rest—

'Tis God's own word—'the dead, who die

        In Christ the Lord, are blest.'

The Family Visiter and Sunday School Magazine 1(12). June 6, 1829. 135.

Curtis, George H., ed. Poems by the Late Rev. John W. Curtis, M.A. NY: Edward O. Jenkins, 1846. 108-109.