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WHERE IS MY MOTHER ? |
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Did the last look haunt thee then,— Those soft eyes upturn'd—as when In thine arms it smiled and died ?
Thou didst see the lovely flower Perish in its morning hour,
While within thy stricken heart, Thou wert garn'ring up with care, Gherish'd thoughts of one so fair,
Thoughts which never can depart.
0! that bright and happy face, Beaming with such heavenly grace,
Seems to greet thee from the skies; To thy soul a light is streaming— "lis the calm and silent beaming
Of those tender, infant eyes.
WHERE IS MY MOTHER?
Where is my lonely mother, This bright autumnal morn ?
Ah, sits she by my brother, Pale and forlorn ?
Methinks I see her listen.
For tones of other years, The while her mild eyes glisten
Through starting tears. 18 |
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