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THE YOUNG MOTHER. She stands amidst the glittering crowd,
The same in form and face, As when at first her sweet cheek glow'd,
Even in this very place, The same bright tresses bind her brow,
The same rich pearls her hair, Her lip is just as roseate now,
Her hands as soft and fair.
She looks the same young radiant bride
As when we saw her first,
Upon our eyes she burst;
Upon her husband's arm:
With every faultless charm.
Yet there's a change-her eyes are still
Most beautiful and bright;
With softer, tenderer light.
But just as musical;
Than a fountain's laughing fall
Still, still she smiles as radiantly,
When friends are speaking near: But in her smile there's less of glee
And more of bliss sincere. "Tis not the brilliant scene around
That her quiet heart beguiles: In her pure spirit may be found
The fountain of her smiles.
Now, ever and anon, her eye
Is fix'd on vacancy,
For, ʼmidst the revelry,
Or its murmuring in its sleep;
When such visions o'er her creep.
She wearies for her home,
Will never, never come!
That would too quickly flow,-
A MOTHER'S LOVE. Hast thou sounded the depths of yonder sea, And counted the sands that under it be? Hast thou measured the height of heaven above? Then may’st thou mete out a mother's love. Hast thou talk'd with the blessed of leading on To the throne of God some wandering son? Hast thou witness'd the angels' bright employ? Then may'st thou speak of a mother's joy. Evening and morn hast thou watch'd the bee Go forth on her errand of industry? The bee for herself hath gather'd and toil'd, But the mother's cares are all for her child. Hast thou gone with the traveller, in thought, afar, From pole to pole, and from star to star? Thou hast; but on ocean, earth or sea, The heart of a mother has gone with thee.
There is not a grand inspiring thought,
And the cabinet must ope!
Things of grief-of joy and hope.
To thy care I hence intrust;
But reduce them all to dust!
It was gaily fill’d and sent;
Here! devouring element.
Friendship took a colder form:
May the blaze be live and warm!
Never more must meet my view :
Let the memory perish too!
Here comes up the blotted leaf,
Blister'd o'er by many a tear!
Go, for ever, disappear!
Warmd the breast and lit the eye:
And its transcript so must I!
When I saw the solemn yew,
'T was a heart-string snapt in two!
High as heaven and true as light;
Spare, O, mercy! spare the sight
While I take it, hand and name,
Of the purifying flame!
And the soul is in the skies,
Cold remains of sunder'd ties !
Once the treasures of my heart!
ODE ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY,
Ah, with what joy did I behold
Alas! the cheek where beauty glow'd,
O from thy kindred early torn,
How oft does sorrow bend the head
What tragic tears bedew the eye!