 | Miscellaneous Poems |  |
159
On Dreaming of my Mother
Stay, gentle shadow of my mother, stay:Thy form but seldom comes to bless my sleep.
Ye faithless slumbers, flit not thus away,
And leave my wistful eyes to wake and weep.
Oh! I was dreaming of those golden days
When, will my guide, and pleasure all my aim,
I rambled wild through childhood's flowery maze,
And knew of sorrow scarcely by her name.
Those scenes are fled! and thou, alas, art fled,
Light of my heart, and guardian of my youth!
Then come no more to slumbering fancy's bed,
To aggravate the pangs of waking truth:
Or, if kind sleep these visions will restore,
Oh, let me sleep again, and never waken more!
| Miscellaneous Poems | |