Nacoochee ; or, the beautiful star, with other Poems

My mother! in this shade where I recline,
Thou look'st upon me as I am—
The thoughts which now possess me, are as thine,
And every storm lies sweetly calm.

Thy sunshine is shut from me, as the day
By midnight!—tears hang from mine eyes
To know that thou art absent and away,
Thou wall around my paradise!

Oh, mother! art thou not that precious light
Which shuts out chaos from my soul?
What need have I of sunshine or delight,
If thou art near me to console?

Thou art, dear mother! as a branching tree,
And I beneath thee as a lamb—
The winds may blow—they conquer thee—
And every storm lies sweetly calm.

I am, dear mother! as a beech in spring,
And thou around me as a vine—
Thine arms brood o'er me like the dove's soft wing,
To shade me from the hot sunshine.

I am, dear one! a spark of thine own light,
And thou the vernal sun that glows;
When thou dost shine, there is no more of night,
And life is love without its woes.

I am, as 'twere, a garden, wherein grows
Uncounted flowers beneath thy sun—
Thou art the spring-tide, I, the stream that flows
To water all life's posies one by one.

I am, dear parent! as a fertile field
Producing fruits of sweetest taste;
And with thy light a thousand kinds can yield—
Without it—but a barren waste!

Rejoice, my mother! for the time is come
When I shall see thee as thou art—
The same dear parent of my native home—
And kiss and press thee to my heart.

University of Virginia Library

TO MY MOTHER.

WRITTEN BEYOND THE MOUNTAINS.