Nashville daily patriot. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1855-1857, 1856-01-17
For The NashyiiIe Patriot.
The Mothers mission.

81 l. yIHsIHtA FHESoH.
child Of beauty rare
Stood the marble threshold all alone,
Deep azure was his eye, and gold bis hair,
And musical his tone
"A slender crystals he held slOfs,
Through which the sunbeam sparkled bright and son,
With rich prismatic hue,
Then lightly laughed the boy, young and fair,
And forth upon the summers morning air,
His shining bubbles blew. .
Mamma mamma he cries; Fs
His diDpled fingers hold crimson staip,
his shattered pipe upon the marble lies,
Like drops Of summer rain
With hurrying f e his mothers side he seeks,
The big tears cOuIsng down his pslid cheeks,
Oh, mamma. see ! what makes
Ny fingers hurtf See how the red blood pours,
Oh! take up. and fold my hand in yours,
Feel mamma, how it aches"
The star-eyed evening wove
Her mantle o. the gold and crimson Cloud,
When by the river side, and through the grove
A youth, and maiden proud,
Came slowly strsyng on. Like jewel showers
Through which in smiling Aprils hop full hours
The amber sunlight shoue,
His passion words fell fast, he seemed topray
That she ould name the hour VIII IN he might say
my beautiful, my own"
Gray twilight closed. The moon
Looked amid her clouds as tho she felt
That sorrow which to mortals comes 50 soon
The youth had owly knelt
Down by his mothers side, his bright young head
Was pilowed on her bosom, and he said,
"oh mother, sorrow wakes
Too early in my soul,-where shall it restY
Oh take my cast-of heart to thy warm breast,
Feel, mother, how it aches!"
Out from the brassy sky
Upon the dusty oitys mol.ng mart
The noOntide sun looked down with piercing eye,
And on her secret heart
Where, goaiing host Of Mammon's slaves,
Forgvtfa OF his early loves sweet graves,
In the wild hunt for gold,-
Forgetting God in sordid, craving quest;
man in his meridian stood possessed
OF treasures untold.
There is an humble street
Where stands modest cottage; all between
Grow tall chrysanthemums and asters sweet
With shrubs Of evergreen.
Here comes the bankrupt wording now to meet
His mothers plying eye: low at her feet
His shattered being shakes:
"AIl's .os,, my mother-ruined, ruined now,
Obi piess your cool hand on my burning brow,
And feel, how it aches
The idol Of the crowd,
One stood wi h Autumn's flush upon his SOUL
Upbreaking from his heart thousand proud
Tumutuous throbbngs roll;
Andhe has left behind him in the
or hot Ambition for the pride of place
The morning land Of youth,
The heights of honor, manhood's noble dover,
And struggling on, still on for pOmp and power,
The stainless shores Of Truth.
Deep in his dungeon cell,
The traitor prone upon The niny floor,
Seemed counting o'e the moments they fell,
lie muttered "Neyermofe
Shall morning come to cheer my fearful doom,
No little ray Of hope pierce the loom
In which my spirit quakes:
Aotherl give; but she is dead,-thank God
She cannot feel beue. tn the graveyard sod
How this wrung spirit achesf
No, no there's not an hour
In which some darkened spirit Goth not turn
Back (Ike the chalice of the sungod's howerD
To tina, o'ernowing urn,
mothers love the purest, best and first
That ever on the pill rims pathway burst.
Oh! happy children take
And deeply drink, for never viii the CLEANS
OF such a fou tain open on your dreams,
Until you sleep in death, and byhe streams
OF Paradise awake
FOREST HoME, 1856