Mary C. Ryan Famous Poems

A book on Mary C. Ryan poetry was published in New York in 1890. Mary C. Ryan poetry mostly describes the beauty of nature. Her poems are not devoid of wisdom even in the 21st century. People also read her poems with great interest. It seems that people will always hum this excellent poetry of her.

On Hope’s Broken Wing

by Mary C. Ryan

Mary C Ryan Famous Poems

On hope’s broken wing my spirit once fell.
From joy’s sunny heights to great depths of woe;
And music’s sweet strains in sadness did swell,
Life’s garden of flowers was covered with snow.

But a bright little bird sang of God’s love,
“I, even I, to the ground can not fall,
Without the care of the Father above;,
He careth for me, for He loveth all.”

My eyes then beheld a lily in bloom;
From her heart of gold she whispered to me:
“I sow and reap not, I dread not the tomb,
The hand of my God provideth for me.”

My soul then, in prayer, sought peace with its God,
The snow on life’s garden melted away:
And my new heart seemed a beautiful sod
Where a sweet hope bloomed that ne’er will decay.


In The City Of Peace

by Mary C. Ryan

In the city of peace, that is paved with pure gold;
The half of whose loveliness has never been told;
On the beautiful shore of the bright crystal sea,
Oh! is there not some one that is watching for me?

Though around me, so darkly misfortunes may press,
Enveloping my life in a film of distress;
That gloom o’er my soul like rain to parched fields would be,
If I knew friends in glory were praying for me.

Though my path o’er life’s mountains is rugged and steep.
And lone are the vigils, that rny sad heart must keep,
Joy would fill my bosom, if my eyes could but see
At the end of that way, friends were waiting for me.

If Jesus through this world would but lead my life’s trend,
I’d know that my sorrow in great joy would soon end,
And all of earth’s crosses would as nothing then be,
When my Saviour and King gives a bright crown to me.


When Sadness Like A Gloomy Night

Poet: Mary C. Ryan

When sadness like a gloomy night
Comes stealing o’er thy soul,
Oh! pause and think of time’s swift flight.
How soon you’ll reach life’s goal.
And though thy heart is ofttimes tilled
With burning griefs and cares,
Reflect: for God with wisdom willed
This life be bathed in tears.

When weary here, toiling in vain,
With soul that longs for rest,
Then falter not, if thou would’st gain
A mansion with the blest.
It may be that love unrequited
May often dim thine eye,
Yet onward press, though earth may fade.
You’ll get your meed on high.

Then nobly bear the cross of life,
Whate’er it chance to be;
E’er bravely battle in the strife
Until the soul is free.
Never repine o’er trifling woes.
This world is but a span;
And life in ceaseless numbers flows,
As when time first began.



Poet: Mary C. Ryan

How fleeting are all the sweet pleasures below,
Like gay flaunting phantoms before us they go;
Or like dreams of enchantment with victory won.
Vanishing with sleep, and forever are gone.

Thus daily earth’s pleasures like mists pass away.
The hopes we hold dearest the soonest decay;
And joys that are brightest the quickest depart.
Leaving fond mem’ries to cling round the heart.

The glory of kings, the beauty of flowers,
Survive but a season, a few summer hours,
For all we enjoy from our grasp pass away,
E’en life at its close will appear as a day.

How vain then are all the allurements of life,
Since all that is won in the world’s busy strife.
In a moment is lost. The triumphs and fame
Of the great and the wise are simply a name.

For in palace or cot at life’s ebbing tide,
But one hope can remain, one joy can abide.
The hope of the soul for redemption on high,
And joy of the promise, a home in the sky.


Sonnet: Hope

Poet: Mary C. Ryan

Sweet angel of joy! beautiful Hope!
With jewel-tipped wings e’er ready for flight,
Thy siren songs, by moon’s silver light,
Despair and sorrow oft will envelop
In a halo of bliss, till both are lost
In joy’s bright cloud. Hope, thou anchor of life,
Which saves the weary in the world’s great strife
When helplessly they, by storm’s fury tossed,
A soul in anguish a long lonesome day
Rejoices ever thy sweet voice to ken.
So, beautiful Hope, chase woe far away
With thy bright allurements pure and serene.
May we enjoy thy smiles all the way.
Through earth’s mystic vale, oh! ever be seen.


Alas! Alas!

Poet: Mary C. Ryan

Alas! Alas! the noisy laugh,
May stifle back a sigh;
And galling tears concealed may lie
Within the brightest eye.
The gayest at’ the banquet board,
O’er vanished days may mourn;
And e’en the light exulting heart,
With secret grief may burn.

Unfathomable the heart’s great depths,
Ourselves we do not know,
For oscillating to and fro,
We live twixt joy and woe.
For all on earth must pass away.
Life’s joys bright sunbeams prove;
And things most prized elude our grasp
Like phantom dreams of love.


Loved And Lost

Poet: Mary C. Ryan

Loved and Lost! it can not be.
We part for aye to-day,
That I no more gaily with thee,
Down by the brook will stray.
The wild rose that we plucked is dead.
But ah! its thorns remain
Deep in my heart; for joy has fled,
Never to come again.

Down by the brook, lover’s tales you told.
And stole my heart from me ,
Then locked it with the key of gold
You dropped in mem’ry’s sea.
Though we must part, we’ll meet again.
Beyond the mists of death.
For souls in heaven would harbor pain
Without the loved of earth.


Childhood’s Home

Poet: Mary C. Ryan

The earth bears on its bosom
No landscape more fair,
And this heart never cherished
Memories more dear,
Than the home of my childhood,
The fond ones that met
There around the bright fireside,
In converse so sweet.

Though those friends have departed.
Deserted that home,
And afar from its door-step.
So sadly I roam,
Yet oft of those happy years,
A shadowy train
Of dim visions seems gliding
Through my weary brain.

Other homes may be brighter.
In splendor may shine,
Other friends in true friendship
Grasp this hand of mine;
But, home of my childhood,
My heart leaps for thee,
Like an o’erflowing fountain
Where’er I may be.


Little Daisy

Poet: Mary C. Ryan

Oh! sweet little Daisy, I’m sighing for you.
With thy fair auburn tresses and eyes of true blue.
Let me go where I will, I can never forget,
The brightest of summers, with no thorn of regret.

Oh! my love for the friends of the sweet long ago,
In mem’ry’s fair garland, still in beauty may glow;
Like the breath of sweet flowers, their shadows may fall,
Yet sweet little Daisy is dearest of all.

Then come to me, Daisy, for my heart calls for you.
Oh! come in thy beauty with thy eyes of true blue.
Without you, love’s circle would be incomplete,
But with you the bitters of this life would seem sweet.

Oh! the pleasures, fair Daisy, of the long ago,
In mem’ry’s fair garland still in beauty may glow;
Like music’s sweet strains, their shadows may fall,
But the hour I met Daisy is dearest of all.


The Future Gleams

Poet: Mary C. Ryan

The future gleams with beauteous light,
Life’s far-off isles are green;
In tasted joys are always bright,
The distant sea serene.
And sunlight shining through the rain
Gives the bright bow its form;
Whose gorgeous tints will even then
Vanish in the storm.

Delusion hides her snares and griefs,
In meshes strangely fair,
Wise men are wrecked on Beauty’s reefs,
And sink in dark despair.
Though phantom hopes of joy and love,
May sweetly charm the ear,
They, to our woe, oft bubbles prove.
And pass away in air.

But stem life’s tide. Do not despair
Beneath a midnight sky,
For silently the morning fair
Is surely drawing nigh.
Even though the heart is racked with pain.
Frowns will those pangs increase,
While smiles, like sunshine through the rain.
Will form Hope’s bow of peace.


Though Bright

Poet: Mary C. Ryan

Though bright is the smile that’s parting your lips.
And sweet the words you are saying;
Though sparkling the cup which young Cupid sips,
As with my poor heart he is playing.

Go leave me alone, for I wish to be free;
My poor heart in thralldom would break;
Yet stay, for I feel love’s fetters on me,
While I not a protest can speak.

Go listen to a bird, as he sings of love,
So plaintive the notes which he trills;
Then ask why I shun the net Cupid wove
And refuse the cup that he fills.

Love smiles, and I see ’tis useless and vain
To attempt to resist him now,
For my quickened heart is throbbing with pain,
Or with joy that’s akin to woe.



Poet: Mary C. Ryan

Grasp the golden sunbeams,
That gaily round thee play,
And hoard the fleeting gleams,
Shining so bright to-day.
For once their light is shed,
‘Twill never shine again;
So grasp them e’er they fade
And pass beyond thy ken.

Let not the moments fly.
On slow wings of despair,
Nor on the noonday sky
Let no dark clouds appear.
So when life’s sun is low.
And all thy tasks are done,
The heart will brightly glow
With pleasures that are gone.

Then, like through dark gray trees,
Sunset arrows dart,
Are virtues brightest rays
Reflected from the heart;
And over earth will throw,
From life’s distant west,
Fair and golden halo,
As the soul sinks to rest.


Oh! Tell Me Not

by Mary C. Ryan

Oh! tell me not of love grown cold,
Nor of departed hopes;
These tales are sad and often told
By every heart that weeps.

But tell to me what good you’ll seek
From this great world to gain;
Though fortune frowns and earth looks bleak,
You’ll cherish no dull pain.

The future stands before us now
A mass of unhewn stone,
Which will into an image grow
Beneath time’s hand alone.

And we to carve its features fair
Must use our time aright,
We have no days nor hours to spare,
But work we must with might.

All man can do. The greatest fame
Is e’er by trifles won,
Success’s the meed of well spent time,
And peace, of tasks well done.


Fairer Than Lilies

Poet: Mary C. Ryan

Fairer than lilies in bloom,
Fraught with the sparkling dew,
Brighter than dancing sunbeams
On the waters blue,
Sweeter than nightingale songs
In the stilly night,
Is the idol of my heart,
Its joy and delight.

Others may quaff ruddy wine,
Bask in Fortune’s smile,
E’en reside in marble halls,
Lux’ries all the while;
But give me the true love
Of her I adore.
Then with health, to earn my bread,
I’d not ask for more.

Sparkling eyes and ruby lips,
Tresses of shining gold.
Has my true love, but her name
Can not now be told; —
But when springtime comes again.
Orange blooms she’ll wear.
Proudly I will call her mine
In the glad New Year.


Like A Fair Pearl

by Mary C. Ryan

Like a fair pearl within its shell,
A sweet hope lies within each breast;
Far, far below the billow’s crest.
Below each varying tidal swell

Though dark the tide ‘neath stormy skies,
Or bright the gleam from moonlit waves,
Alike serene in ocean caves,
The perfect jewel hidden lies.

Thus through each scene of joy and woe,
Life’s sweet hope e’er remains the same,
Unchanged by time and fickle fame,
Its genial rays in all hearts glow.

But as rough shells from the dark sea,
Disclose their treasures in the light,
Eare gems reflecting sunbeams bright.
In crowns of kings honored shall be.

Lifted by God from depth of night,
The ransomed soul as changed shall be,
From cumbrous earthly shells set free,
Ever to bask in Heaven’s light.

For in a brighter world than this,
Life’s hope at last will be revealed,
The longing soul be satisfied,
Resplendent in eternal bliss.


God Is Everywhere

by Mary C. Ryan

One gloomy day,
A man did stray
Through fields and woodlands drear;
And chanced to see
On the green lea,
A flower sweet and fair.
It was the violet so blue.
That he saw hiding there.

“Why thus,” he said,
“Thy fragrance shed
O’er this secluded spot?
Oh! why not grow,
Thy beauty show,
And seek a brighter lot?
For thou would’st win some lover true
In palace or a cot.”

It hung its head.
And thus replied: —
“My God has placed me here,
And I’m content
My life be spent
This lonely spot to cheer;
To some faint heart, e’en I may show
That God is everywhere.

“And I alone,
In modest tone,
Far from the haunts of man,
A soul may win,
From loathsome sin,
Back to its God again.
For o’er me here, His zephyrs blow,
His care for me is seen.”

The man passed by.
And heaved a sigh;
But left the violet there.
“Long live,” he said.
“Thy fragrance shed,
For God is also here.
To my sad heart, well didst thou tell
That He is everywhere.

“For there’s no place,
Where there’s no trace,
Of His great love and care;
Where’er I be,
His love I see;
For He is ever near.
Where space extends. His praises swell,
For God is everywhere.”


Oh! The Flowers

by Mary C. Ryan

Oh! the flowers that bloom in beauty to-day,
To-morrow may fade, so soon they decay.
They’ll vanish from earth, e’er summer is o’er,
They’ll pass like the dew, and blossom no more.

So hopes we cherish so fondly to-day,
Will flee from our grasp, like shadows away;
And in the heart’s depths will leave a great void.
Or will sever in twain love’s silken chord.

But time speeds on, and lo! other flowers,
Will spring into life in other bright hours;
But only to bloom in beauty, then die
As the rosy-winged summers pass by.

Thus hope after hope, from youth to old age,
With sweet magic power our souls will engage.
Then pass from our ken, like sunbeams away,
To bloom in the spring of eternal day.

And friends we love in this cold world of ours,
Will fall midst joys and perish like flowers.
For soon on this earth man’s short life is o’er;
And then, when once gone, he returns no more.

Though life for a while is full of delight,
Still work and watch for the on-coming night.
Oh! live not alone for one sunny day,
For time’s on wings, and will soon lly away.

And then, when earth and its pleasures are gone.
We’ll cling to the hope which lingers alone.
As a handful of clay is laid ‘neath the sod,
The spirit returns, and lives with its God.


Farewell! But When Roses

by Mary C. Ryan

Farewell! but when roses shed their perfume o’er thee,
At twilight’s sweet hour, sacred to love.
Search thy mem’ry’s dark vaults, for remembrance of me,
And find the charms, which thy bright eyes wove;
And then if thou canst, oh, dispel that strange power
Which has doomed me their captive to be!
For afar from those orbs, a faithful sunflower,
My poor heart will be turning to thee.

Though the fountain of love, which is sparkling so bright,
In the glance of your dark hazel eyes;
Will be frozen and still, far away from that light,
In the gloom of life’s sorrowful days.
But beauties of sunbeams are gorgeously revealed,
In the ice on a bleak winter’s day;
So love’s silvery sprays, by thy cold frown congealed,
Vanished hopes and bright smiles will display.

I leave thee, but sad thoughts, like the frost on the rose,
Will cling to my heart’s innermost fold;
For soon in the dim, shadowy past must repose,
Love’s soft pinions of crimson and gold.
Too fondly I have loved thee; I cannot forget
The fleet arrows that wounded my heart,
Though hope’s bloom is shed, in my bosom lives regret.
And time brings no balm for true love’s smart.

Then farewell! but remember my love can not die,
Linked to life, a flow’r to its stem;
Though rejected and scorned, in my bosom ’twill lie,
A heart’s devotion, life’s priceless gem,
When thy smiles and affections another has won,
And hope’s rainbow is seen through your tears.
E’en then in thy mem’ry keep a green spot for one
Who so truly has loved you for years.



by Mary C. Ryan

Father, with Thy great love draw me
Closer to Thee;
And banish from my soul its night
With truth’s great light.
Oh! give my panting spirit rest
Upon Thy breast,
There let me cling closer to Thee,
Thy glory see.

For through the changing scenes of life,
In earth’s great strife,
I’ve fought for Thee and for the right
With all my might.
But all that I could win proved vain
And full of pain,
So I grew weary in the fray,
Fell by the way.

What I have sown, others did reap,
So I must weep.
O Saviour, speak these words to me,—
”All’s well with thee.”
Thy promises I do believe,
So God receive
This contrite heart, and give me rest
Upon Thy breast.

For now in tears I’ve come to Thee
Without one plea;
No golden grain to Thee I bring,
No worthy thing;
But at my Saviour’s feet, e’en I
Now prostrate lie.
O Father, take my sin-sick heart
And heal its smart.


Tis Only A Rosebud

by Mary C. Ryan

‘Tis only a rosebud, faded and dead!
But around it still fond memories cling.
In halls of pride its aroma was shed;
Once of its beauty a poet did sing

In numbers which flowed from heart unto heart.
And chords long silent vibrated once more;
Its glory defied the poet’s loved art,
But soon its sweet bloom and triumph were o’er.

It drooped and withered, was ruthlessly thrown,
Anywhere! anywhere! out of the way.
In obscurity now, it lies unknown,
Even forgotten is its inspired lay.

But thus it is e’er: the joys we possess
Are cherished one moment, then flung away.
And the charms of youth, the world oft caress.
In age are forgot and left to decay.

So pick up the faded, castaway flower,
Tenderly list! as it sighs its last sigh.
For sweet it will be in death’s darksome hour,
To feel and to know, some kind friend is nigh.

For kind words oft cheer the proud broken heart,
And raise the soul from gloom and despair,
To earth’s dreary scenes bright visions impart;
Jewel above price is sympathy’s tear.

Then weep with the sad and laugh with the gay,
Making life brighter to all whom you meet;
“Well done,” will be said then to you some day,
“Enter into rest eternal and sweet.”



by Mary C. Ryan

Sitting alone in the gloaming.
With soul grown weary with weeping;
And drifting so far, far away
From the scenes of this lonely day;

Like perfume wafted from flowers.
Clings to some fair Elfin bowers.
So fancy reverts to the past,
To the years that vanished so fast.

And life like a desert appears.
All covered with sorrows and cares;
While joys like oases green,
Ofttimes on the vast waste are seen

Or like a bird singing in glee,
Though shot in sport, falls from its tree.
So at the zenith of my joy
In fortune’s hand I seemed a toy;

And into woe’s deep pit was cast
To bear alone its fiery blast.
But dust to dust is God’s decree
To things of earth whate’er they be;

And he who stores his treasures here,
Like bubbles sees them disappear.
So, well for us, that each some day
At death’s dark door, life’s ills can lay;

With sorrows, tears, and griefs all o’er,
E’en lost in joy forevermore.
For if to self we but prove true,
From Sharon’s rose we’ll sip the dew.

In the darkest gloom of night
We’ll see by faith a distant light.
And hear a voice,”All’s well with thee,
True to thyself and true to me.”

Then, when across Jordan’s cold stream.
These years of toil will seem a dream.
So watch and pray, and be content,
And let not time be idly spent.


Oh! Give Me Back

Poet: Mary C. Ryan

Oh! give me back my childhood years,
The friends that are no more,
Youth’s golden dreams, free from glum fears.
The balmy days of yore.

I’d rather sport in life’s fair spring,
Chasing the butterfly,
Than win and love some beauteous thing.
Only to see it die.

Our dearest hopes will, one by one,
Pass far beyond our sight.
And pleasures vanish soon as won.
Like day fades into night.

For all that fortune can bestow,
Like fairy gifts must fade.
The days and years as quickly go;
Toil with vain hopes is paid.

And in ambition’s gilded cup,
Is e’er a bitter draught
For her fond votaries to sup;
Her shrine’s with sorrow fraught.

So give me back my childhood’s years.
Heart light as thistle-down,
And eyes undimmed with rising tears,
The joys in childhood known.


Read More: Althea Randolph Famous Poems

Add comment