Burlington free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1827-1865, 1847-01-01

Can death then conquer love
Nay, that mny never be;
Love is omniroent, and death
Oweth him ieaty.
And well and Loyalty, his trus,
Kind death doth guard for aye;
Ils lie that TO loves treasures gives
Their immortality.
The pleasant gardens of the heart
He coyercih with snow,
But warmly lies that shcltering robe
Zach cherished plant below;
Until, by loving angel-hanls
Sweet beams OF lite arc shed,
To quicken with rcviving warmth
The gardens OF the dead.
And in the halmy breath Of heaven,
That bcauiiil spring-tinc,
Each sleeping Hover revives again
In ain eternal cline.
The glorious sun is setting
Behind the linrn's shade.
And sotcned lights are falling
On wood and hill and glaze.
A lovely lake is sleeping
B.nrlih the evening sky.
Aud dreain!,y upon It's breast
The deepening shadows lie.
And shady lawns and clustering trees,
And flowers with radiant face,
Are there to bless and bcautiiy
An ancient dwelling place
olovely all the scene around,
SO fair the sky above,
1t seemed consecluted ground,
Sacred to peace and love.
But nh in this strange world Of time
All is not as II seems
Dark shadows ever undcrlie
The hupplest life dreams.
mother, in that silent house,
Watches her dying boy
a widowed mother lair and young.
And he her only Joy.
She ats within the dafkcncd room,
Tho mother with her son;
oh who may tell thy hearts deep gloom
Thou sad and lonely one
Reclined upon his little couch,
The dying child was laid
Over the pillow, soft and bright,
His golden ringlcts strnyed.
Dim were the hali-coscd eyes of blue,
Eyes late SO radiant;
Yet on his mother. lovingly,
Their fading glance was bent
She knecclh down beside the bed,
How shtIy clasp her hands
Lies glass Is ,bbng inisrr like
She counts the golden sands.
Aud bitter bitter in lie heart
Is grief Tor words too deep,
As DER the little features steals
That heavy, hopeless sleep.
And must it be all must he die 7
He: beautiful, hcr joy
All it may me-, shall not be
She cannot lose her boy.
Upon his cold and paid lips
Her own are warmly pressed;
All could she 10 her darling give
The life from her own breast
His cradle hours, his fowcr-ke sleep,
So different from this;
His bounding step, his sunny voice,
Ills merry laugh and ks
And all the proud, fond hopes that fill
A mothers loving heart.
Rise III her now ;--ah il IL hard
When child and mother part
Once more the boys blue eyes urcose,
And OIL his mother gaze
As, with n smile, upon her neck
His feeble hand he lays.
Mother" the first. the las, sweet sound
His infancy had known;
For in That sini.r, that faint embrace,
The boys young soul had flown.
They laid him in his l,tlc grave;
No word the mother said
Her 1T, was daikeurd, iar her heart
Was with her early dead.
Deep, still. her wo 4: her very soul
Was gsInercd in her child
And now, her treasures all "mtombcd,
No hope her pllri henIilci
All when our twining love no more
May to its Idol cling,
What kindly power to dropping heart
Shall breeze or sunshine bring
Again the gorgeous sunset hucs
Hill, vale aud flood ,lluinc:
But still the childcss widow bidcs
Within the daikencd room
She slcp, sad and troubled sleep,
Til. Just at break oi day,
A bright and gentle influence
$50 '''' 80 he lay
Lightly on faprau. 400, . .......
Aud rohed in shining white
WIN golden tresses waving nee,
A young child meets her sight,
Her own. her own lost child bu, oh
How beautiful he seemed
Never in gaycsi life was he
So fair as then she dlcamei.
With eyes olligh, and brow of love
Haycrcd the glorious child,
And chaunicd 10 the nio,hcr'sear
In tones so sweet and wild,
Tint every accent senta thrill
OF Joy into her soul
And her hearts painful, BEATING hu.hsd
Beneath its soft control
- come, como, sweet mother,
From the dwelling o''hc hles,,
Tocomiort thee my mother.
And kiss thee IN tiny rest"
1.-THE spirir-laul is very fair.
Dear mother, could 81 thou see
How fair II is, I'm very sure
Thou would'st not weep tor me
"We've beautiful bright gardens,
18th shady trees and bowers:
And oh, such birds, such birds, mother.
AS fly amid the flowers
And there we play, dear mother,
As gay rs any bee,
For there are thousand of US,
All little ones. like me
"And the beautiful angels, mother.
That are so kind and wise
They teach us every day the love
Oithe kingdom in the skies,
"And we children help them, mother.
When on works oflove they 60,
- And every blessed day, mother,
Ike to them we grow.