The Poetry of

Sarah Harvey Palmer was born October 7, 1841 in Exeter, Rhode Island. She was the tenth child of Asher and Joanna Eames Palmer, and the younger sister of my third great-grandmother, Hannah Palmer Larkham.

Sarah was nineteen years old when the Civil War broke out in April 1861.   In August 1863, Sarah's older brother, William and her younger brother, Horace, died as a result of wounds received during the war. Sarah never married; perhaps this, too, was a consequence of the war and the lack of young men of marriageable age, or perhaps a suitor was lost in action.

Despite the fact that Sarah never had children of her own, it is clear from her poetry that she enjoyed children and that she was a doting aunt to many nieces, nephews, great-nieces and great-nephews. Her poetry clearly brought comfort to relatives in times of grief, and brought joy to them in their celebrations of life. Sarah's wry wit must have entertained them as well.

The Poetry
[Note: the poems listed below represent only a portion of the many
hand-written pages of poetry written by Sarah Palmer.
My efforts at transcribing her poetry are slow and still in progress].

The Sitters Around in the Canterbury Store

To My Sister on her Ninetieth Birthday (For Hannah Palmer Larkham)

The Twins' Birthday (For Gertrude & Herbert Larkham)

Sadie's Bird (For either Sadie Clark or Sadie Lyon)

To Sadie Lyon

Acrostic (1)

Acrostic (2)

Trailing Arbutus

Acrostic (3)

Acrostic (4) (For Joanna Eames Palmer)

A Birthday Gift

Poem on the Death of Mrs. Amanda R. Holmes (for Amanda Raymond Palmer Holmes)

Composed for Mr. & Mrs. Levi N. Clark (for Levi & Carrie Larkham Clark)

Lover's Lane  (for Jane Hannah Larkham and Joseph Boardman)

Mrs. Boardman's Borders (for Jane Hannah (Larkham) Boardman)

Birthday Poem (for Joanna Eames Palmer)

One by One

To Mrs. Thornton

To Mr. and Mrs. James Johnson on the Fiftieth Anniversary of Their 1837 Marriage 1887

To Miss Spaulding

In Loving Memory Alice L. Palmer

Little Eddie

The Sitters Around in the Canterbury Store
I recognize at least a few of the names in this tongue-in-cheek poem: the promising brothers, Asher and Will (named in verse 2) were no doubt Sarah's nephews, Asher and William Palmer, sons of Sarah's older brother, James Burnham Palmer.

1
One day as I travelled I happened to call;
at the Canterbury Store, just under Grange Hall.
As I opened the door, and gazed all around;
Such a motley group of men as ever I found.

2
There was long Mr. Weaver with his big stalwart frame,
Bright eyed Jesse and Simon called Button by name,
There were Asher and Will, two promising brothers,
and some times their father was found with the others.

3
Next Prof. Harry Phillips; with his stories complete
And his talkative son Sim, who takes a front seat.
His other son Wen is generally around
But being more quiet, is not so easily found.

4
Sometimes you will find the teacher, Adams by name,
Who in long years of teaching has won great fame.
There you see Lionel Herrick, a scholar of some note;
Though much too young to cast a legal vote.

5
Then I saw three Georges, who live on the Green
Three jolly good fellows as ever you've seen.
They rejoice in the cognomen of Smith, Green & Place
and their tongues just run as if trying a race.

6
Then there is another whom they call Ripley Hicks
Who with all his "sofurderness" sometimes gets into a fix.
The next on the list is that comical Dan Leary
Who likes his good toddy quite too well to marry.

7
Then Captain Ed Jencks, of the Horse Marines
who with Jencks Junior is generally seen.
Next Uncle Elijah with his head on his breast
who looks as though he better stay at home and rest

8
The last on the list is the medical professor
Who bought a few books from his late predecessor
And thinks he is the greatest of all M.D.s,
But likes to sit by the fires and pocket his fees.

9
He cures cancers and fevers, measles and grippe
And with the same medicines cures hens of the pip.
Now some of these fellows, who come here to sit,
Have tongues that run much too fast for their wit.

10
Though they are all good sitters, but few go to church
When the pastor invites them they leave him in the lurch.
Now what do they talk about, science, politics, art,
Or do they discuss religion, and each take a part.

11
Now my dear friends, when this poem you read
Just study the matter, and think of what I've said.
Don't sit around and smoke & spin your long yarns,
But get up your wood piles and look after your farms.

Sarah H. Palmer

Jewett City, Conn.

TO MY SISTER ON HER NINETIETH BIRTHDAY
1825-1915

[Sara wrote the following poem to her older sister (my 3rd-great-grandmother), Hannah Palmer Larkham]

Dear white-haired sister, would I could
Meet you at this milestone on life's way,
To congratulate and to greet you
On this late anniversary day.
The finger on the dial-plate of time
Points to your ninetieth birth-day,
You've had a long and rugged journey
As you traveled along life's way.

No longer glimmering clear and white
Are the milestones by the lengthened way,
But dim and dull in the shadowy light;
Ah! They are old, and mossy and gray,
As on the height of years you stand
Blessed and honored in our sight,
We'll smooth the way for the tired feet
And make your pathway happy and bright.

We'll lighten the burdens for the tired arms,
And kindly brush the soft white hair,
May your kindred and friends all express
Their gratitude for all your loving care.
Bless the patient hands, the sheltering arms
Many dear little heads have nestled there
Comforted and blest with mother-love,
Now you must rest in the "old arm shair."

And surely you have developed
The characteristics of Palmer-hood
For patient, heroic endurance
Like the bravest of heroes you've stood,
And like our ancestor, Walter Palmer
You are blest with length of days,
May a home and Host await you
When you reach the parting of ways.

Sarah H. Palmer
Norwich, Connecticut
March twenty-fourth,
1915.

THE TWINS' BIRTHDAY
September 20, 1885
This poem was written for the 14^th birthday celebration of Sara's twin niece and nephew,
Gertrude & Herbert Larkham

September's Harvest Moon is here,
And the golden haze of September's sure,
Memory goes back through each previous year
And pauses at eighteen seventy-one.

Fourteen years ago! Longtime it seems to youth
Twin cherubs were brought to our embrace
Twin rosebuds, en fleurs of innocence & birth,
Were added to this earthly dwelling place.

Now the birthday feast for them is spread,
With fourteen years their lives are crowned
But childhood's hours are quickly fled,
As days & years go circling round.

May your two lives together blend,
Together blend & mingle into one
As separate streams from the fountain head
Flow merrily on, and join as they run.

As the father who cared for your early years
Has passed on to the land of rest,
May you cherish, protect & keep from tears
The mother with whom you are blest.

Each year is a milestone as onward you go.
May each bear a record of good words & deeds
May we journey together where still waters flow
And Jesus our Shepherd supplies all our needs.

SADIE'S BIRD

[It's unclear whether Sarah wrote this for her great-niece (and my great-grandmother) Sarah (Sadie) Clark, who was about 2 years, 4 months old at the time, or for her niece, Sadie Lyons, who was nine years old.]

Sadie had a little bird,
With feathers brown and yellow,
Slender legs, upon my word
He was a pretty fellow.

Dainty crumbs and tiny seeds,
She gave him every day,
And birdie hopped about and chirped
For little Sadie May.

Now Sadie loved the little bird,
And when he died one day,
Her little heart was very sad,
And she forgot to play.

But Sadie has a little kitty,
Which is very fond of her;
And when she takes him on her lap,
He says "purr, purr, purr."

Now since the little Birdie's gone,
She must play with Kitty more;
For Kitty thinks the snow is cold,
And loves to stay in door.

Dec. 1886

TO SADIE LYON
by her Aunt Sarah
[Sadie M. Lyon was Sarah Palmer's niece -- the daughter of her older sister, Caroline (Palmer) Lyon.
Sadie died in 1892, at the age of fifteen.]

Sweet little friend! Too early called
From all the sorrows to mortals given.
We feel, we know thou can the hand
Of Jesus, beckoning thee, to heaven.

Oh! Sadie dear! Sweet darling pet:
Thou art not lost, but gone before:
Weary of earth, and welcoming rest.
Thou art waiting for us on the other shore.

And as the birth days come and go,
We cannot from our memory tear
Our thoughts of thee; thy smile, thy voice,
Thy presence meets us everywhere.

We think of the fair-haired baby.
Of baby wiles, and baby smiles so bright.
And our hearts discern the winsome face,
And the eyes, so full of sweet delight.

We are sad to think of the dear little girl,
Whom we laid to rest one summer day,
Covered with beautiful flowers she loved;
Still it is well: for 'tis God's way.

Once, the Savior, in sweet compassion,
Took the little ones on his knee.
Saying with His hand upon their head,
"Let the little ones come unto me."

We are gathering home-ward, dear friends,
Soon we'll enter the City of rest.
Through the waters of death, we enter life,
Still it is well. God knoweth best.

We miss thee, dear one, we miss thee,
But days of parting will soon be o'er.
Oh! There'll be such happy greetings,
When we moor our bark on the Golden shore.

Sarah H. Palmer
Norwich, October 25, 1892

COMPOSED FOR MR. & MRS. LEVI N. CLARK

[This poem was written after the death of Mabel Larkham Clark at age 1 year, 10 1/2 months. Mabel was the first born child of my great-great-grandmother, Carrie Larkham Clark, Sara Harvey Palmer's niece, and her husband, Levi N. Clark. My great-grandmother, Sarah Hannah Clark, was only one month old at the time of Mabel's death.]

Little Mabel, your heart's treasure
Has been torn from your embrace,
God so loved her, that he called her
To his own abiding place.

Though your bosom swells with anguish
And your heart may throb with pain,
Look to Jesus, he can help you,
He will you in love sustain.

God in pity, looks upon you,
He beholds your sorrowing hearts
And he lovingly invites you;
To accept the better part.

She was a lovely precious flower,
Has gone to bloom in Heaven's bower.
It's there she will be forever blest,
It's there little Mabel has found rest.

Darling Mabel is now an Angel,
Robed in garments pure and white.
With a Crown upon her forehead,
As she roams the field of light.

Dear Stricken Mourning parents
Look to Heaven to find relief
God is ever, ever near us,
When our hearts are bowed with grief.

She may be your guardian Angel,
To guard you on Life's weary way,
Then look upward not despairing
Of a brighter happier day.

And when this stormy Life is O'er
And you have passed to the distant Shore
May you find little Mabel at the beautiful gate,
Waiting and watching for thee.

K.

[It's not clear what K. stood for. Sara must have had a nickname she went by that began with the letter K.]

ACROSTIC (1)

Early years, if properly spent,
Develop the mind and disclose its bent,
Discard there, each thought, impure or untrue,
If you would be happy and honored too.
Each be patient, and trials new,
Poet or preacher, whatever you make,
Always be sure the right side to take,
Loving words and kind thoughts may you ever possess,
May you ever be kind to those in distress:
Ever be patient, faithful and true,
Remember your maker and worship him too.

Love your books and love your school,
You also must keep the golden rule,
Oh! Don't forget as you journey on,
None can be saved but through God's dear son.

Sept. 1879

ACROSTIC (2)

Childhood is called the springtime of life.
And yours is fast passing away
Resolve to be faithful, though seasons may change
Regret surely follows a badly spent day.
In all the temptations which before you may lie
Ever dare to do right, and ask help from on high.

Be wise in your planning, save the moments with care,
Over and over which way you may turn
Always and ever you'll find some great lesson
Ready and waiting, for you to learn
Duties stem duties, may lie in your pathways,
May you ever perform them with patience and care,
And when you are tried, hurried and tempted,
Never forget there's a moment for prayers.

Learn to be faithful in all you attempt
Youth's golden age is fast passing away
Onward still onward the moments are gliding
Never leave till tomorrow, your task for today.

TRAILING ARBUTUS

Trailing arbutus, sweet little flower
Rearing thy head in the mossy dell
Exhaling thy fragrance on all around,
Sweet little blossom I love thee well.

How lovely are thy pearly pink petals,
Coming so early, sure harbinger of spring,
Filling our hearts with joy and gladness
As the feathered songsters make the welkin ring.

As thy subtle fragrance is borne aloft,
And wafted abroad on a breath of air
So may the fragrance from our lives ascend
On wings of thankfulness and prayer.

S.H.Palmer

Apr. 1880

ACROSTIC (3)

Hearts with Heavenly love inspired,
Ever give the peace desired;
Noiselessly pass the mists away,
Reliving our dread of the coming day:
Ye servant of God, watch and pray.

And ever may your longing be
"Nearer my God, to thee."
Dearest friend, draw near to me.

Even though the dawn be cold and dreary,
May we wait and never weary;
Morning brightness with riches glow,
After early shades, you know.

Christmas 1880

ACROSTIC (4)

[Sarah wrote this for her mother, Joanna Eames Palmer.
Joanna's name is spelled with the first letter of each stanza.]

J-ourneying on o'er life's rough way
O-ever be faithful from day to day
A-nd ever remember that this world of sorrow
N-eeds many a prayer for each tomorrow
N-ever forget that thy Savior is near
A-nd will love you and help, while journeying here.

P-ain and sickness and sorrow here
A-ll must endure, but, never fear,
L-eft early alone in the battle of life
M-any trials and troubles thou hast met in the strife
E-ver lend to the Lord a listening ear
R-emember he'll help you while journeying here.

[written between 1880 and 1882]

A BIRTHDAY GIFT

As your birthday is near at hand
And birthday gifts will be in demand
This little apron which I herewith send
To your afternoon dress a charm will lend
So when your fancywork you take
Please put it on for Aunt Sara's sake.

Feb. 13^th 1887

POEM
ON THE DEATH OF MRS. AMANDA R. HOLMES
Of Griswold, who died November 9, 1866
By Sarah H. Palmer

[Sarah wrote this poem on the death of her older sister,
Amanda Raymond (Palmer) Holmes, who died at the age of thirty-eight.]

Fair woman! O'er thy marble clay
We weep, for though art passed away:
We know thou art clad in shining white,
In the Beautiful City! Temple of Light!

We know that thou art gone to a world free from pain,
That our earthly loss is thy heavenly gain:
We remember thy words, so trusting and sweet,
So cheerful and loving, which thy lips could repeat.

"My daughter, don't leave me," the fond mother would say,
"If thou art not here, I care not to stay:"
"Dear mother," she said, "my Savior is near;
He is calling me now; I go without fear."

Dear sister, don't leave us -- thy presence we'll miss,
Thy kind, loving words and thy soft loving kiss.
"Dear sisters and brothers, my Father says come,
And he's waiting for me in my heavenly home."

"Dear wife, do not leave me to journey alone
Through all the dark mazes and ways all unknown."
"Dear husband," she said, "God calls me away:
Go ask Him -- He'll help you and teach you the way."

"Dear mother, don't leave us; stay with us, we pray,"
The poor-stricken children are trying to say.
"Dear children," she said, "be faithful and wait;
I'll be watching for you at the beautiful gate."

We know thou art gone to a world full of bliss,
But thy dear loving presence so sadly we miss:
We weep for ourselves, not for thee who art blest,
For thy suffering form is forever at rest.

September 1879

LOVER'S LANE

[Sarah wrote this poem about the courtship of her niece, Jane Hannah Larkham, by Joseph Boardman. Jane was the fifth child of Sarah's sister, Hannah, and William H. Larkham. Jane and Joseph Boardman were married on June 4, 1884. Who was the younger brother of Jane sitting on the fence observing the lovers? It was most likely Herbert Larkham, who would have been 13 at the time.]

Joseph and his lady friend, Jane,
Were walking down a shady lane;
The sky was blue, the sun was bright;
Says Joseph to Jane, "this is just right."

A shady lane, with trees by the way,
Is a delightful place to spend the day,
And so they thought, they'd extend their walk,
And improve the time with a little talk.

Then Joseph said, "if this were life's lane,
And you were always to walk with me, Jane,
The sky above would be always blue,
And the sun should be very bright for you."

And Jane looked pleased as he squeezed her hand
And called her the sweetest girl in the land.
So they walked to the end of the lane,
These two sweethearts, Joseph and Jane.

As they walked absorbed in each other
They didn't notice Jane's little brother
Who sat by the fence as they passed by
And looked with a knowing wink in his eye.

As they walked homeward very slow
The sun was getting very low.
And the wonder is with you, and me
When will friend Jane become Mrs. B?

BIRTHDAY POEM
[Sara wrote this poem for her mother, Joanna Penry (Eames) Palmer. ]

Dear Mother, eighty years old today!
Your children have gathered to say
That they have journeyed from far and near
To celebrate Mother's eightieth year.

And, dear Mother, over your hearth and home
Lights and shadows have come and gone
The loved and lost; for dear Mother wait
Watching for you at the Beautiful Gate.

Though your hair is whitened and thinned by time
Yet your form is erect; as in your prime;
And you have known many hopes and fears
Mid the lights and shadows of eighty years.

Your sons and daughters a tribute bring
Your children's children your praises sing
May He who has lengthened out your days
Tenderly watch o'er all your ways.

May God keep you from sickness, pain and tears
Till your days are lengthened to a hundred years
And when on earth our days are all told
Above may our names be found enrolled.

Aug. 14^th 1882

MRS. BOARDMAN'S BOARDERS

[This poem was obviously written for the feline friends
of Sarah's niece, Jane Hannah (Larkham) Boardman!]

Here comes Madam white foot
With her children three
And her summer wardrobe
Packed in her Saratogee.

She is a nice lady boarder,
Who eats a great deal,
Devouring a whole pan of milk
At one meal.

Soon this lady is crying
And calling for more
And there's no peace in the house
Till you get her out door

Then Bert very slyly
Picks up a match,
And lights a firecracker
And O My! Such a scratch.

Such struggling and scrambling
You never did see
There's Whitefoot and Midget
And Ben and Topsee!

Nothing is seen but
The shadow of cats,
As they go flying through window
Or crawl through the slats.

If you should decide
To winter them all
I advise you to put up
Extra provisions next fall.

Norwich Town

July 26, 1898

ONE BY ONE

One by one the sands are flowing, Luminous the crown, and holy
One by one the moments fall; When each gem is set with care.
Some are coming, some are going;
Do not strive to catch them all. Do not linger with regretting,
Or for passing hours despond.

One by one thy duties wait thee, Nor, for the daily toil forgetting
Let thy whole strength go to each: Look too eagerly beyond.
Let no future dreams elate thee,
Learn thou first what these can teach.

Hours are golden links, God's token, reaching heaven: but one by one,
One by one (bright gifts from Heaven), take them, lest the chain be broken.
Joys are sent the here below! Ere the pilgrimage be done.
Take them readily when given, Kindness
Ready, too, to let them go. A little word in kindness spoken,
A motion or a tear,

One by one thy griefs shall meet thee, Has often healed the heart that's broken,
Do not fear an armed band, And made a friend sincere.
One will fade as others greet thee
Shadows passing through the land. A word a look - has crushed to earth
Full many a budding flower.

Do not look at life's long sorrow; Which, had a smile but owned it's birth,
See how small each moment's pain: Would bless life's darkest hour.
So each day begin again. Then deem it not an idle thing
A pleasant word to speak:

Every hour that fleets so slowly, The face you wear, the thoughts you bring,
Has its task to do or bear: A heart may heal or break.

TO MRS. THORNTON

“Words butter no parsnips”
And thanks would starve a cat
Although I’ll try to thank you,
But fear I’ll fail in that.

For that delicious cup of cream
You sent the other day
I feign would send sincerest thanks
Accept them now I pray.

And believe me dearest Madam,
That while eating your cream,
The thanks that I feel,
Are far more than they seem.

May you always be favored
With cream in life’s cup
May the cows at Pleasant View
Never dry up.

Jan. 1887

TO MR. AND MRS. JAMES JOHNSON
ON THE FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY
OF THEIR 1837 MARRIAGE
1887

O’ come, kind muse, O come to me,
And stand here close beside,
And teach me how in fitting words,
To address this Groom and Bride.
For the Bride is such a womanly woman
And the Groom such a good kind man,
That common words fail to do justice,
So help me, dear muse, if you can.

In the good old town of Lisbon,
Just fifty years today
The wedding bells rang merrily,
For the sweet bonnie bride of J. J.

Much joy to you, dear kind friends,
The heartiest we can give,
And when your loving journey ends,
There’s a happier life to live.

February 7, 1887

TO MISS SPALDING

I know that true worth consists
In doing, as each day goes by,
Some kindness to those around us,
Nor dream of the great things we try.
We off get our mete as we measure
And although my measure is small
I hope it may be acceptable
And you may enjoy it all.

February 1887

IN LOVING MEMORY
ALICE L. PALMER

[I'm don't know who Alice L. Palmer was.]

Our dearly beloved has passed away,
And left a home so lovely,
And in the silence day by day,
We hear the loved tones only.

Sweet be thy rest, and free from trial,
The cares of life for thee are over
Earth’s rude toil and self denial,
Are left behind for evermore.

We smoothed the braids of thy silken hair
On thy queenly brow so white,
And in thy hand placed flowers fair,
Rest, dear Alice, ‘till morning light.

We see thee lifted high above,
Beyond all earthly griefs and fears,
Oh! What to thee our changeless love
Or what to thee our falling tears.

The everlasting Spring is thine,
And everlasting fadeless flowers
But the dark river of Death divides,
Thy Heavenly land from ours.

We shall meet again dear Alice
Where the wave of death never roll,
Where dwelleth our Healer, Jesus,
The touch of whose hand makes whole.

Dear Alice, rest from care and sorrow,
Thy trials are o’er, the goal is won,
On thy slumber dawns no morrow
Farewell, thine earthly race is run.

Jewett City
May 30, 1887

TO MR. & MRS. E. W. GRAHAM
Little Eddie

He brought the sunshine with him.
And music from above
And filled your little household
All around about with love.

A blessing too came with him
This bright eyed little boy
The darling little cherub
So full of life and joy.

He brought all pleasure with
To Mamma’s waiting arms
And day by day the darling boy
Developed sweeter charms

Little Eddie precious one
Dwells with Jesus now
God loved him, and he gave him
A crown upon his brow.

Please do not copy or reproduce the poetry on these pages
without my permission.

Copyright 2000 © Sally Russell Cox

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