 | Poems by Miss H. F. Gould |  |
208
THE MOTHER'S JEWEL.
Jewel most precious thy mother to deck,
Clinging so fast by the chain on my neck;
Locking thy little white fingers, to hold
Closer, and closer, the circlets of gold—
Stronger than these are the links that confine
Near my fond bosom, this treasure of mine!
Gift from thy Maker, so pure, and so dear,
I cannot but hold thee with trembling and fear!
Clinging so fast by the chain on my neck;
Locking thy little white fingers, to hold
Closer, and closer, the circlets of gold—
Stronger than these are the links that confine
Near my fond bosom, this treasure of mine!
Gift from thy Maker, so pure, and so dear,
I cannot but hold thee with trembling and fear!
Whence is this gladness, so holy and new,
Felt as I clasp thee, or have thee in view?
What is the noose that slips over my mind,
Drawing it back, if I leave thee behind?
Soft is the bondage—but strong is the knot:
Oh! when the mother her babe has forgot,
Ceasing from joy in so holy a trust,
Dark should her eye be, and closed for the dust!
Felt as I clasp thee, or have thee in view?
What is the noose that slips over my mind,
Drawing it back, if I leave thee behind?
Soft is the bondage—but strong is the knot:
Oh! when the mother her babe has forgot,
Ceasing from joy in so holy a trust,
Dark should her eye be, and closed for the dust!
Spirit immortal, with light from above,
Over this new-opened fountain of love,
Forth from my heart as it gushes so free,
Sparkling, and playing, and leaping to thee,—
Painting the rainbow of hopes, till they seem
Brighter than reason—too true for a dream—
What shall I call thee? my glory? my sun?
These cannot name thee, thou beautiful one!
Over this new-opened fountain of love,
Forth from my heart as it gushes so free,
Sparkling, and playing, and leaping to thee,—
Painting the rainbow of hopes, till they seem
Brighter than reason—too true for a dream—
What shall I call thee? my glory? my sun?
These cannot name thee, thou beautiful one!
209
Brilliant celestial, so priceless in worth,
How shall I keep thee unspotted from earth?
How shall I save thee from ruin by crime,
Dimmed not by sorrow—untarnished by time?
Where, from the thieves and the robbers that stray
Over life's path, shall I hide thee away?
Fair is the setting—but richer the gem.
Oh! thou 'lt be coveted—sought for by them!
How shall I keep thee unspotted from earth?
How shall I save thee from ruin by crime,
Dimmed not by sorrow—untarnished by time?
Where, from the thieves and the robbers that stray
Over life's path, shall I hide thee away?
Fair is the setting—but richer the gem.
Oh! thou 'lt be coveted—sought for by them!
I must devote thee to One who is pure,
Touched by whose brightness, thine own will be sure,
Borne in his bosom, no vapor can dim,
Nothing can win thee, or pluck thee from him.
Seamless and holy the garment he folds
Over his jewels, that closely he holds.
Hence unto Him be my little one given;
Yea, “for of such is the kingdom of heaven!”
Touched by whose brightness, thine own will be sure,
Borne in his bosom, no vapor can dim,
Nothing can win thee, or pluck thee from him.
Seamless and holy the garment he folds
Over his jewels, that closely he holds.
Hence unto Him be my little one given;
Yea, “for of such is the kingdom of heaven!”
| Poems by Miss H. F. Gould | |