OLDEN MEMORIES. In our days of mirth and gladness Like sweet music to the soul; Death from dross the spirit frees, Cherish, in thine heart of hearts, All thine "Olden Memories!" 15 TO MY MOTHER. MOTHER! they say to me, that thou Beginest to grow old; That Time, in furrows on thy brow, Hath placed his impress cold. 'Tis so!-yet dost thou still appear young and fair to me, As As when an infant, Mother dear, They tell me, Mother! that thy cheek Hath lost that ruddy glow, Of which so oft I've heard those speak Who knew thee long ago. It may be so!-yet will I press That cheek with love as strong As when in childhood's first embrace, Upon thy neck I hung! TO MY MOTHER. They tell me many a charm, once fair, Begineth to decay; That thy once glossy, raven hair, Is turning fast to gray. Yet I each hoary tress revere, And yet I know 'tis even so, And, Mother dear, it grieves my soul Mother! in sooth it filleth me With sorrow, sharp and keen, I think how much of care and pain, Mother! I'd spare to thee! 17 Ah! vain the wish!-for time, once gone, Can never more return; And, as it still is hurrying on, Still onward we are borne. And deeds once done, are done for aye, Can never be unspoken! But, Mother! though I cannot now Of earthly pilgrimage! A MOTHER'S LOVE. "There is a religion in all deep love, but the love of a MOTHER is the veil of softer light between the heart and the Heavenly Father!" COLERIDGE. A MOTHER'S LOVE!-Oh! never, sure, A love from earthly dross so pure, A coin so free from base alloy- A Mother's Love!-Oh! who can know For her beloved ones she kneels. |