 | Ballads and other verses |  |
106
RELICS.
You ask me why with such a jealous careI hoard these rings, this chain of silken hair,
This cross of pearl, this simple key of gold,
And all these trifles which my hands enfold.
I'll tell you, friend, why all these things become
My blest companions when remote from home;
Why, when I sleep, these first secured I see,
With wakeful eye and guarded constancy.
Each little token, each familiar toy,
My mother gave her once too happy boy;
Her kiss went with them. Chide me, then, no more,
That thus I count my treasures o'er and o'er.
Alas! she sleeps beneath the dust of years,
And these few flowers I water with my tears!
| Ballads and other verses | |