Oh! I could gaze for ever Thou weepest, childless mother! Aye weep-'twill ease thine heart.He was thy first born son, Thy first, thine only one, "Tis hard to lay thy darling Once gladsome with his mirth. To meet again in slumber His small mouth's rosy kiss; To feel, half conscious why, A dull, heart-sinking weight, Till memory on thy soul Flashes the painful whole, That thou art desolate. And then to lie and weep, And think the live-long night (Feeling thine own distress With accurate greediness) Of every past delight. Of all his winning ways, His pretty, playful smiles, And all his little wiles! Oh! these are recollections Round mothers' hearts that cling That mingle with the tears And smiles of after years, But thou wilt then, fond mother! (Time brings such wondrous easing) With sadness not unpleasing, E'en on this gloomy track. Thou'lt say, My first born blessing! It almost broke my heart When thou wert forced to go; And yet, for thee, I know, "Twas better to depart. I look around, and see The evil ways of men; And, oh beloved child! To thy departure then. The little arms that clasp'd me, I lull'd thee on my breast? Now, when the hour arrives The first at heaven's gate, To meet and welcome me.' THE BARREL ORGAN. [MISS ROSCOE.] THE father sat and watch'd his boy, With all a father's woe; Fled was the rosy light of joy, And faded his young brow; Dark shades were gathering o'er its grace, And yet he linger'd still-at fits, Across his cheek;-that gleam And his small feeble hand with care It play'd-that simple careless tune, His pale cheek flushed with joy; The organ past-and all forgot The music fled away; But the young sufferer knew the spot, And the accustomed day; And ever, as it took its round, His heart was sooth'd with that sweet sound. But ah! glad strains, and tender cares, Soon torn from all sweet sounds he shares And, with a cold and breaking heart, He takes him to his tomb-and then, What stirs him from his deep despair? It plays again-that simple air- In every note-in every tone, He feels his child again his own. And thoughts of tenderness and love A world so sad and brief: The airs of heaven are in his ear His child in angel-light is near: THE FOOTSTEP'S FALL. [W. JERDAN, ESQ.] THE Footstep's Fall! time presses on, With you, with me, with all; And sad it is to mark the change Ev'n in the footstep's fall. I recollect those childish days, When, blest in love's sweet thrall, Echoed the footstep's fall. I've known the dream, that flies ere proved, I've known the busy, business world, And now the tottering frame of eld Life wanes apace, still hastening down, The end is near,-the last dark step,- Silence-and never more on earth |