Or doth each pulse in choiring cadence Throb on in music till at rest for ever? Yet now, in wildered maze of concord flo "Twould seem, that glorious hymning to Old Time, in hearing thee, might fall a-do And pause to listen to thy rapturous so MY MOTHER'S GRAV BY JAMES ALDRICH. IN beauty lingers on the hills The death-smile of the dying day; And twilight in my heart instils Like weeds upon its sluggish wave. MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. 259 God gives us ministers of love, Which we regard not, being near; Death takes them from us, then we feel That angels have been with us here! As mother, sister, friend, or wife, They guide us, cheer us, soothe our pain, And when the grave has closed between Our hearts and theirs, we love—in vain ! Would, MOTHER! thou couldst hear me tell Hath fall'n the free repentant tear. And, in the waywardness of youth, Mid sweet remembrances of thee. The harvest of my youth is done, And manhood, come with all its cares, Finds, garnered up within my heart, For every flower a thousand tares. Dear MOTHER! couldst thou know my thoughts, Whilst bending o'er this holy shrine, The depth of feeling in my breast, Thou wouldst not blush to call me thine! Now I bind a perfumed letter Round your neck with silken fetter; Bear it safely, bear it well, Over mountain, lake, and dell. You may fly along the ground, High in Heaven pursue your way From the palace of the west, Tints with fleck'ring gold your breast, Stay, then, feathered darling, stay- Comes, your journey you'll achieve, And above a gentle vale Will on easy pinion sail. In that vale with dwellings strown One is standing all alone. White it rises 'mid the leaves, 262 THE DOVE'S ERRAND. By a lattice, wreathed with flowers, Envied dove, behold a maid! She will meet your searching eye. She your weary plumes will kiss- From your neck her fingers fine |