CAN I, who have for others oft compiled
of death, forget my sweetest child?
Which, like a flower crushed with a blast, is
dead,
And ere full time hangs down his smiling head,
Expecting, with clear hope, to live anew
Among the angels, fed with heavenly dew!
We have this sign of joy, that many days
While on this earth his spirit struggling stays,
The name of Jesus, in his mouth, contains
His only food, his sleep, his ease from pains.
may that sound be rooted in my mind
Of which such strong effect in him I find!
Dear Lord, receive my son, whose winning love,
To me, was like a friendship far above
The course of nature, or his tender age,
Whose looks could all my bitter griefs assuage.
Let his pure soul, ordain'd seven years to be
In that frail body, which was part of me,
Remain my pledge in heaven, as sent to show
How to this port on every step I go.
Ι
A YOUNG and tender plant from Eden's bowers,
In thy first loveliness transplanted here,
To watch thy growth a guardian form is near,
To shield from evil thy brief sunny hours-
Nourish with love's all-gently dropping showers
Each germ and leaf-and should dark clouds
appear,
Shelter from blight or injury, the clear
Soft rosy tints of thy unfolding flowers.A few more years, and strength may then be thine To brave the storm or bear the noontide ray, And thus matured in beauty, round thee shed A glory and a sweetness, all divine ;
The golden fruit stored for the harvest-day, When faded each bright flower-the fair tree dead!
Two Roman ladies sought the arbour's shade,
Where one her store of precious gems displayed;
The glittering bracelet from its case she brought,
Studded with sapphires, in fine gold inwrought;
From ivory casket, next, the carcanet,
With emeralds pale and costly diamonds set;
The ruby brooch on her white robe was placed,
And amethysts and pearls her fingers graced;
But her prized treasure was an opal-stone,
Which lay upon her brow as on a throne,
A regal gem, whose tremulous fire is bright
With rainbow-hues that vary with the light,
And flashing tints which swift each other chase,
Like joyous smiles upon a lovely face.
Then spake she to Cornelia, whilst her eye
Glanced on the treasure round triumphantly;
"These are my jewels, brought from Eastern mine
And ocean-caves. Fair lady, show me thine."
Two little boys upon the floor the while,
Sat by Cornelia; with a quiet smile,
She laid her hand upon each graceful head,
Stroking their silken hair, and gently said,
“These are my jewels. Thine from sea and earth
Their being drew,-mine are of heavenly birth."
BY SIR AUBREY DE VERE, BART.
WITH work in hand, perchance some fairy cap,
To deck the little stranger yet to come;
One rosy boy struggling to mount her lap-
The eldest studious with a book or map-
Her timid girl beside, with a faint bloom
Conning some tale—while, with no gentle tap,
Yon chubby urchin beats his mimic drum,
Nor heeds the doubtful frown her eyes assume.
So sits the mother, with her fondest smile,
Regarding her sweet little ones the while;
And he, the happy man! to whom belong
These treasures, feels their living charms beguile
All mortal cares, and eyes the prattling throng
With rapture-rising heart, and a thanksgiving
tongue.
THY memory, as a spell
Of love, comes o'er my mind-
As dew upon the purple bell—
As perfume on the wind ;-
As music on the sea-
As sunshine on the river ;-
So hath it always been to me,
So shall it be for ever.
I hear thy voice in dreams
Upon me softly call,
Like echoes of the mountain streams
In sportive waterfall.
I see thy form as when
Thou wert a living thing,
And blossom'd in the eyes of men
Like any flower of spring.
|