University of Virginia Library

IN MEMORY OF MY MOTHER.

An orphan'd babe, from India's plain
She came, a faithful slave her guide!
Then, after years of patient pain,
That tender wife and mother died.
Where gothic windows dimly throw
O'er the long aisles a dubious day,
Within the time-worn vaults below,
Her relics join their kindred clay—
And I, in long departed days,
Those dear, though solemn, precincts sought,
When evening shed her parting rays,
And twilight lengthening shadows brought—
There, long I knelt beside the stone
Which veils thy clay, lamented shade!
While memory, years for ever gone,
And all the distant past portray'd!
I saw thy glance of tender love!
Thy cheek of suffering's sickly hue!
Thine eye, where gentle sweetness strove
To look the ease it rarely knew.
I heard thee speak in accents kind,
And promptly praise, or firmly chide;
Again admir'd that vigorous mind
Of power to charm, reprove, and guide.
Hark! clearer still thy voice I hear!
Again reproof, in accents mild,
Seems whispering in my conscious ear,
And pains, yet sooths, thy kneeling child!
Then, while my eyes I weeping raise,
Again thy shadowy form appears;
I see the smile of other days,
The frown that melted soon in tears!
Again I'm exiled from thy sight
Alone my rebel will to mourn;
Again I feel the dear delight
When told I may to thee return!
But oh! too soon the vision fled,
With all of grief, and joy it brought:
And as I slowly left the dead,
And gayer scenes still musing sought,
Oh! how I mourn'd my heedless youth
Thy watchful care repaid so ill—
Yet joy'd to think some words of truth
Sank in my soul, and teach me still:
Like lamps along life's fearful way
To me at times those truths have shone;
And oft, when snares around me lay,
That light has made the danger known.
Then, how thy grateful child has blest
Each wise reproof thy accents bore!
And now she longs, in worlds of rest
To dwell with thee for evermore!