 | A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England |  |
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THE ABSENT MOTHER'S PORTRAIT.
I marvel not her pleasant face so sweet a smile doth wear,
Her only son was in her heart when she was pictured there;—
She fancied how, with tearful eyes and quivering lip, the while,
He'd gaze upon the welcome prize, and kiss that lovely smile!
Oh! never with the portrait part, while life and sense are thine!
'Twill prove a guardian to thy heart, through Fortune's shade and shine;
Thou couldst not find in fairy realms an amulet or spell,
Would hallow thee from grief and sin so faithfully and well!
For while those eyes are on thee still, to smile when thou art blest,
And fill with tears, or seem to fill, when Sorrow is thy guest,
To glance a glad approval down on noble thought and deed,
Or change to mournful tenderness, if Error should mislead,
My life on it—no word, which thou wouldst blush to have her hear,
Will stain thy lip—no reckless act will cause her heart a tear!
No! holy Honour, fearless Truth, and Purity, will raise,
To that beloved and loving face, a fond and fearless gaze.
Her only son was in her heart when she was pictured there;—
She fancied how, with tearful eyes and quivering lip, the while,
He'd gaze upon the welcome prize, and kiss that lovely smile!
Oh! never with the portrait part, while life and sense are thine!
'Twill prove a guardian to thy heart, through Fortune's shade and shine;
Thou couldst not find in fairy realms an amulet or spell,
Would hallow thee from grief and sin so faithfully and well!
For while those eyes are on thee still, to smile when thou art blest,
And fill with tears, or seem to fill, when Sorrow is thy guest,
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Or change to mournful tenderness, if Error should mislead,
My life on it—no word, which thou wouldst blush to have her hear,
Will stain thy lip—no reckless act will cause her heart a tear!
No! holy Honour, fearless Truth, and Purity, will raise,
To that beloved and loving face, a fond and fearless gaze.
When friends around thy festal board in social mirth are met,
And pledging thee—their generous host—the laughing lip is wet,
Then will the love-charm work, I ween,—for oh! the cup that's quaffed,
Where soft her hallowed semblance glows, will not be filled too oft!
Ah, no! no queen of fairy land could lend thee charm or spell,
Would guard thee from all grief and sin so faithfully and well!
Well may'st thou prize the portrait, and blest indeed is she
Whose son has chosen a mother's form for household deity!
And pledging thee—their generous host—the laughing lip is wet,
Then will the love-charm work, I ween,—for oh! the cup that's quaffed,
Where soft her hallowed semblance glows, will not be filled too oft!
Ah, no! no queen of fairy land could lend thee charm or spell,
Would guard thee from all grief and sin so faithfully and well!
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Whose son has chosen a mother's form for household deity!
| A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England | |