Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1842-12-23

TIE Dh INV hihh'
Tho ftful breeze that, through the sultry day
Had famed tho ranting blossom with It's BREATH
Stole through the easement where there lay
A pale young girl upon the couch of death;
Her glance was fixed upon tho moon tina, rolled
Through blue and starlight in the vaulted SKY
As il sho knew her nccting hours were told,
And wished to take one lingering look and de-
Beside that humble couch there dropped one form,
The gentle mother of the dying one,
For grief had bowed her spirit, as the storm
Bends the son rose upon its emerald throne;
There lay her child, tho beautiful, the young,
Tho breath just signing on her lip OF snow,
And her soft ringlets all dshGvelled flung
Back from the whitenesJ of her deathy brow
Sadly she bent above her, though her look
Was fearless, up she sought her daughters eye,
Yet her lip quivered like bright leaf, shook
by the strong tempest, as it sweeps the SKY i,.,
Daughter she mumufed, and the malhen turned
Unto her mothers fice the mourniul glance,
In which ifi's pickering taper wildly burned'
For she was startled as if from trance
And Mt that voice, so thrilling 10 her car,
A thousand tender thoughts her heart oppressed,
'Ti 10 her blue eye, toar-dpp followed tear
And the white liaen heayod above her breast
About her mothers neck she softly threw
Her pale THU arms, and nesting her young heuu
Within hor sheltcring bosom, dashed tue dew
From her sOll check and in low accents said
Mother, my hour has come,
The wing Of de%ih is Ger me- for my BROW
Down to the silent tomb
1t is 10 think that am leaving thee
Poor and unfiendcd-mothor, thou wilt DO
Alone al morn and eve.
And through tho long, long day,
Thou sit with breaking heart above Thy task,
Earning thy daily bread, while others basE
In fortunes sunny ray.
For on thy heart will press
a Thousand memories Of thy buried child -,
And thou wilt pour thy weopings long aud wild
In utter loneliness
And in the time of sleep
Thou't turn to kiss mo, as thou oft hast done,
But memory will whisper, she has gone,
And thou wilt wake and weep.
Before my father died.
We dwelt beneath own bright stately halls, ,
Round which blue streams and silver fountain falls
Were seen to glide.
There, on the evening breeze,
In summer time no harshcr sound was heurd,
Than the low hutter of some singing Bird
Startled among the trees
And there beside cur hearth,
Thou's often knet, and offered up to God
My infint spirit pure as snow untrod,
And free from faint oil earth
But now how changed thy lot
Strangers arc dwelling in our once bright home,
Whilst thou art rcnt within this close dark room,
Unaded and forgot.
have been like spell,
Binding thee unto earth-but death hath pressed
His cold and heavy hand upon my breast
Mother, so, flrcwell!
Slowly her arms unwound their wreathng clasp
Around her mothers neck, and her fair head
Fell heavily back, while a low heightened gasp
Stirred her cold, marble bosom-shc was dead!
Silent that mother gazed--tho mighty Hood
Of grief within her heart, she sir"vc to hide,
For it seemed a sin to weep while thus she stood
Above the holy dead and sanctiied.
II was no time to mourn for she had yet
A bitter, mouTnfu duty to fulfil,
To nress the eye-lids o'or the blue orbs set,
To close the sweet lips smiling on her stiii