SCRoots, THE FROZEN DEW-DROP

THE FROZEN DEW-DROP
by Lewis C. Levin

How lavishly the moon to-night,
   Her silver o'er the landscape throws;
The stars pour down their crystal light,
   The dew sleeps sweetly on the rose;
Yes! night has shed her pearly tears,
   The drooping flowers of earth redressing,
And beautiful each bud appears,
   A sparkling drop of light caressing.

'Tis morn! each flower that sprang so fair,
   Is withering on the bending stem,
The moistening dew is frozen there,
   And shines a cold but glittering gem;
And find ye, where yon ruins lie,
   Of drooping, weary, wasted flowers,
An emblem of our destiny
   In youth's gay sunlit fleeting hours?

Go, ask that one, whose early year
   Reflected blending love and bliss;
She'll point you to her image here,
   And weeping say-" 'Tis this-'tis this!"
Within her eye, upon her brow,
   Once virtue's image bright was beaming,
Oh! wrecks of hopes but linger now,
   And wintry wreaths are wildly streaming.

If e'er a glance of light should break
   Through clouds that brood in endless storm,
'Twill brighten o'er a frozen lake,
   But ne'er the chilling waters warm.
Then nurse thy grief, despair and pain,
   Till death shall calm the heart that's broken,
There, long an angel's tear has lain,
   But frozen is affection's token.

Lewis Charles Levin (1808-1860) was born to a Jewish family in Charleston, South Carolina. He attended the South Carolina College. About 1828, he moved to Mississippi where he read law while teaching school. After living in Maryland, Kentucky, and Louisiana, he settled in Philadelphia, where he was admitted to the bar in 1838. He became a prominent temperance leader and served as editor of the Temperance Advocate. Later, he helped form the Native-American Party and edited the Philadelphia Sun. Levin served in Congress from 1844-1850 and became an outspoken partisan of nativism.

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