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50 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. |
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Murky vapours rolled beneath thee, And the rains fell fast below,
But thou sat'st above their pathway, In the sunbeam's richest glow.
Thus the soul may have its dwelling On the mount of holiness ;
Basking in perpetual sunshine, Joying in eternal peace—
Still unhurt by earthly sorrow, Undisturb'd by care or woe,
While the spirit of the tempest Spends its violence below.
1845.
MY MOTHER.
Fondly now my thoughts are turning Towards my mother's distant home.
While the evening: stars are burning: Far in yon bright azure dome.
0 how soft are memories stealing O'er my melting heart to-night!
What a depth of tender feeling Bids the tear bedew my sight!
Mother! 0, that name I cherish Closely, closely in this heart!
Shall its sweetness ever perish ? Shall its music e'er depart? |
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