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'Tis hard to lay thy darling
His empty crib to see,
His silent nursery,
Once gladsome with bis mirth.
To meet again in slumber
His small mouth's rosy kiss; Then, wakened with a start, By thine own throbbing heart, His twining arms to miss!
To feel (half conscious why)
A dull, heart-sinking weight, Till memory on thy soul Flashes the painful whole, That thou art desolate'
And then to lie and weep,
And think the live-long night,
Of all his winning ways,
Oh! these are recollections
Round mothers' hearts that cling, That mingle with the tears And smiles of after years,
With oft awakening.
But thou wilt then, fond mother,
In after years look back, (Time brings such wonderous easing,) With sadness not unpleasing,
E'en on this gloomy track.
Thou'lt say, ' My first born blessing!
It almost broke my heart, When thou wert forced to go; And yet, for thee I know,
'Twas better to depart.
'God took thee in his mei;cy,
A lamb untasked, untried, He fought the fight for thee, He won the victory I
And thou art sanctified!
'I look around and see
The evil ways of men, And Oh ! beloved child I I'm more than reconciled
To thy departure thenv
'The little aims that clasped me, The innocent lips that pressed,
Would they have been as pure
Till now, as when of yore
'Now. (like a dew drop shrined
Within a crystal stone,) Thou'rt safe in heaven my deve! Safe with the source of Love!
The everlasting One.
'And when the hour arrives,
From life that sets me free ,-
To meet and welcome me.*
''. Anon SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND.
She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,
And lovers around her are sighing;
For her heart in his grave is lying!
She sings the wild song of her dear native plains,
Every note which he loved awaking:
How the heart of the minstrel is breaking!
He had lived for his love, for his country he died;
They were all that to life had entwined him; Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,
Nor long will his love stay behind him!
Oil! make her a grave where the sun-beams rest,
'They'll shine o'er her sleep, like a smile from the west,
TO THE MEMORY OF A YOUNG LAD
She is gone far away to where Seraphs shall sing
Her welcome to bowers of bliss!
For her flight from a world like this!
She has gone to the home of the gentle heart,
With spirits of light around her— Where the glow of that innocence ne'er shall depart
In which heaven's messenger found her.
Then weep not for her who brightly came
To beam round her path delight,
Has fled with an angel's flight.
But a brighter clime is o'er thee,