TO MY MOTHER, ON A BIRTH-DAY. BY THE EDITOR. THEY tell me I am FREE, As though the thought were glad ; But oh it burdens me, And mother, I am sad. I feel that I am wearing Too early, manhood's years— That time is onward bearing To conflict and to tears. I sighed in childhood's hours, In youthful days I wore, And sunshine beamed, how brightlyAs it will beam no more. TO MY MOTHER. FREE from my guileless plays Dear mother, and from THEE. To lisp no more thy prayer ;- Nay! 'tis a chain I wear, That binds me from my homeWhose links are toil and care, That gall me as I roam. Of mad ones past me sweep,- To Fame's unhallowed steep: My heart with earth defiled! 131 I hear the thunderous boom, I scent the battle's air; My leaping blood cries 'ROOMI'm with the thickest there!' 'STAY '-saith a voice within, 'Be not thy heart too strong; 'Court not life's battle din, "Twill summon thee ere long. 'Seek higher mastery 'Than winning thee a name— The tinsel blazonry 'Of an unlasting fame! 'Look where the foe would crush 'Thy nobler purposings, The passions' maddening rush Oh! gird us for that fight, With earth-embattled powers, Thou of Eternal Might— In the fast-coming hours! When inward foes o'erwhelm, Be Righteousness our mail, Salvation's hope our helm, When fiery darts assail; то MY MOTHER. God-given strength, to wield And Faith our battle-shield. Not in the tumult strife, Triumphant on the field 133 * Star, that in heaven burns, The changeless and the true The trembling needle turns, Earth's lesser lights' above My wandering heart is yet Firm to thy ray of love! JAN. 19, 1840. THE DEAD. BY GEORGE F. TALBOT. THE mighty dead, earth's teeming brood, I move amidst life's busy crowd, Thou greedy earth, whose fertile rind What is thy solid mould but men, Oh! cruel mother, yield us back |