Withered Leaves from Memory's Garland. Abigail Stanley Hanna
Should I Smile?
On the Death of Willie White, Who Was Drowned Sept. 21, 1856.
Lines, Written on the Death of a Friend.
Lines, Written upon the Death of Two Sisters.
Lines, Written for a Friend upon the 20th Anniversary of Her Birthday.
Lines, Written on the Departure of a Brother.
Lines, on the Death of a Friend.
We All Do Perish Like the Leaf.
Lines, Written in Answer to the Question "Where Is Our Poet?"
Lines, Written upon the Young Who Have Recently Died in Our Village.
Letter, from the Pen of My Husband, Now Deceased.
Lines, From Mary to Her Father in California, with Her Daguerreotype.
Letter of Resignation, from Mrs. Hanna to The Maternal Association
Lines, Written on the Death of Frank.
Lines, Inscribed to a Brother.
To Mr. and Mrs. S----, On the Death of an Infant.
To Mrs. J. C. Bucklin, by Her Father.
Preface
These pages were not written for public inspection; but to beguile the weary hours of indisposition, and present a record of thoughts and sentiments to the eyes of my children, after my lips are sealed in death.
By the recommendation of friends, I have decided to submit them to the public.
From a criticising public I should shrink; but to a sympathizing public I would appeal, trusting the holy mantle of charity will be flung over my errors, and my motives appreciated.
I would take this opportunity to tender my hearty and sincere thanks to my patrons, who have aided me in this enterprise, not only by their subscriptions, but by their words of sympathy and encouragement, which have fallen like sunshine upon my gloomy pathway, warming my desolate heart, and leaving a sweet fragrance upon the memory, which shall live on and on, through the long ages of eternity; for beautifully and emphatically