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THE YOUTHFUL MOTHER. 377 |
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But dearer far should be The friends who shaped his earlier years, Who shared his transport and his tears— Yea, dearer far to me!
Parents, whose souls entwine Around the heart I know my own, Who gave it each responsive tone, I call—I call you mine !
Sisters, who used to rove With him in childhood, hand in hand— I come to join your smiling band,
I come to claim your love.
I come a stranger here, And yet as one who knows you well, Whose heart with sympathy can swell,
Whose eye can drop the tear,
T.
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THE YOUTHFUL MOTHER. She clasp'd upon her snowy breast
A little, playful thing; Like a sweet dove just sunk to rest,
With folded, drooping wing.
Her dark eye rested on its hair, , With slumber's dew-drops wet ;
And all a mother's love was there, Among those curls of jet. |
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