The southern press. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1850-1852, 1851-07-19

- SS~S~S ~ %~~~&o NO.
Ny methsr, lis long and weary time
Since last locked upon Thy cad, sweet facs,
And listsasd % the gentle spirit-tonss
" thy dear voice Of music. was then
A child bright haired child. The fearful thought
That thou vast passing from the earth away,
Was my young ifs's sorrow. Through the long
And solemn watches of that awful night
Kind friends who dearly loved US, gathered round
Thy dying couch, and in my agony,
Ny childish agony, ! shrisked 10 them
TO save thee, mother, but with streaming tears;
And in the tones Of holy sympathy
They told me thou wouldst die.
Oh! then bowed
NY head 70 God, whose worship thy dear lips
Has taught me. and to Him, with bursting heart,
prayed that he would spare thee. And, a. there
knslt, holy calm, a. il from Heaven,
Came stealing DER my spirit, and voice,
Az 'twere . melody from some star,
Floated into my soul. II said that thou
Must leave me, that thy home was in the sky,
And hover round him on thy angels wings
In all his wanderings here
My mother, then
| rose in more than childhOod's strength and
watched
The fading of thy life. Dear friends still hung
Around thy pillow, but saw them not.
Wild lamentations and deep sObs were breathed
From hearts Of anguish but heard them not.
A man Of God poured forth his soul in prayer
For thy souls welfare, but heard him not
saw but thy wan cheeks, thy parted lips,
Their blue-veined lids, thy bright dishsvslled
Thy pallid brow damp with the dews Of death,
And the faint heaving of thy breast, that of
In happy hours had pillowsd my young head
To sweet and gentle slumber, and heard
But the faint struggle Of thy failing breath
Thy stiAing signs, and the high, holy words
That seemed to fall like dew drops on my soul
From out the blessed skies ALI suddenly
Thy blue eyes opsnded, and moment looked
Upon thy child with one fixed, burning gaze,
In which the deep and boarded love ofy years
Was all concentrated a convulsve thrill
Shot through the fbres of thy wasted frame
And death was there-ay, thou vast mine and
deaths
And then nv tears AGAR rushed wildly forth,
But light from Heaven broke through them with a
Prismatic glory, as gazed,
And saw thee mounting, like new made star,
Far up thy pathway in the heavens
Long years, my dear lost mother, have gone by
Since that wild hour. My manhood and my youth
Have passed away, and now my childhood's prime
Ia fading like vision, for my years
Far, Y0r OutnumDeT lnlne upon Tic cdTt,
This dark, cold exile Of the gentle heart
From the bright home to which it longs to fly,
And be at rest forever. have seen
Much, much of Joy and sorrow, have felt
Life storms and sunshine, butI ne er have known
Such raptures AZ my full heart shared with thee
In childhood's fairy years. Now, time no more
Scatters fresh roses round my feet, his hand
Lats fall upon my path but pale, torn flowers,
Dead blossoms, that the genial dews of eve,
The morning sunlight and noontide rain
Can ne 'er revive again, for they are dust
Ay, dust and sshes.
Even thine image now,
The image of thy lovely form, that shOne
The starlight Of my childhood, seems to fade
From memory's vision. IT'S as some pale tint
Upon the twilight wave, broken glimpse
OF something beautiful and dearly loved
In far gone years, a dim and tender dream,
That like faint bow darkened sky,
Lies on my clouded brain. But, oh thy voice,
In tones can never perish in my soul;
1t visits me among the strife OF men
In the dark city's solitude. II comes,
Amid the silence of the midnight hour,
Upon my listening spirit like strain
or fairy music Ter the sea. And Oft,
When at the eventide, amid hush
Deep al the awful stiffness of dream,
! stray all lonely through the leaAess woods,
And gaze upon the moon, that seems to mourn
Her lonely lot in Heaven. or on the trees,
That look like frowning Titians in the dim
And doubtful light, that unforgotten voice
Swells on my ear like the low, mournfu tone
Imprisoned in the sea shell, or the sound,
The melancholy sound Of dying gales
Painting on the far off tree tops.
Yes,
Ny dear mother, though mountains, hills and
Divide me from thy grave, where so oft
In childhood laid my bosom on the turf
That covered thine, thoughthe drear winter storms
r 49, lor~ b.vs cast 90 fhese their snofle ss