*

TO A MOURNING MOTHER.

"The good die young."-SHAKSPEARE.

*

"Those we love first are taken first."-TENNYSON.

I.

I SAW a red rose yestermorn,

That downward bowed its mournful head; Two buds beneath lay shrunk and dead, From off the bough untimely torn.

With silver sparkle, like a tear,

There lay a dew-drop, mid the red:
"This rose is a true type,” I said,
"Of one who mourns her infants dear."

But on the bough a younger bloom
Raised hopefully its tiny head;
Sad recollections of the dead

To charm away, and thoughts of gloom.

II.

And as I gazed upon those flowers,
The tale of woe thou didst rehearse
Expressed itself in simple verse,
'Mid silence of reflective hours.

III.

As poets wait the rising sun
In twilight gloom, upon a hill,
So did the parents wait, until
Arose their long-expected one.

Addressed to a mother on the death of her eldest son, who survived the birth of a sister only nineteen days, and the death These lines were written at the

of a brother a fortnight.

mother's request, and, in accordance with her wish, a few copies were printed for private circulation.

They stood beside the dim, dark sea,

Till came, with freight of love, the ship,
'Mid music as from seraph lip,
Tuning their hearts to melody.

Came as a flower that breaks the sod,
Or tender dove adown the skies,
Or sunbeam lighting eager eyes,
Or revelation fresh from God.

IV.

Thus come from out the spirit-land,
New jewel in her crown of bliss;
A mother's tender greeting kiss
He felt, and trembling of her hand.

V.

Her head the mother often bent
Above his brow so young and fair,

[there,

And wondered what strange thoughts woke

And with what joy 'twas eloquent.

Anon from his young lips there came,
Sweeter than all sweetest singing,
Or a lover's words of winning,
A lisping of his mother's name.

And daily showed the infant mind

New glimpses of its heavenly form, With everlasting sunshine warm, And softly bright: ah! all were blind

To see, till he had passed away,

The glories that young soul enshrined, By which a token they might find, That long from heaven he would not stay.

Within his eyes there seemed a gloom, At changing for a dwelling here, The ever joyous atmosphere

Of gardens where he used to bloom.

Fair Adon's gardens, homes of bliss,
Deep hidden in a sacred dell,
Glittering with constant asphodel,
Beneath a bluer sky than this.

He almost seemed to dwell apart,

In other thoughts than move us here : His mother, with no thought of fear, "Laid up all these things in her heart."

'Tis said that sorrows come not single
To the heart: 'tis true also,
Crowding joys together mingle;
Earth is not one vale of woe.
Now descend the rains of sorrow;
Sunbeams shall bathe earth to-morrow;
And the pilgrimage we go,
Though o'er sands for weary hours,
Yet is often over flowers.

So another soul came flying,
Scarcely willing to depart
From sweet heaven, softly sighing,
Came to glad the mother's heart.
But the earth, so fairly seeming,
Was a heaven to his deeming,
Calling him to take his part:
Joyous he passed life's entrance aisles,
With happy steps and constant smiles.

VII.

Goodly and pleasant 'twas to see
Each little brother,

Treading earth's paths so lovingly,
With arms around the other :
One merry as the jocund day,
One calm as saintly even;
One flushing with life's golden ray,
One dreaming of the heaven.

VIII.

To God arose a grateful hymn

From those to whom such joy was given ; But lo! He, looking forth from heaven, Recalled the lovely babes to Him.

Maybe those dear ones He removed
To give to faith a wider scope,
Or to re-brighten Christian hope,
Or that before Him they were loved.
Thus seemed it fit in His good sight,

And surely thus for them was best;
Therefore are they content to rest
In His good will who judgeth right.

IX.

So the cloud came o'er their sun;
Death approached their little one :
Short and sudden was the strife,
Ere he left the glow of life

For the calm of heaven.
Visions of supernal things,
Glimpses of angelic wings,

Sure, to him were given.
Now the praise of God he sings
In melodious utterings,

With the' Eternal Seven.

X.

Quietly lay his golden hair
Round the quiet of his face;
Quietly lay that form so fair
Within that quiet place.
Happily passed the chosen soul
To the happy world away;
Happily now the moments roll
In ever happy day.

XI.

The other little one, meanwhile,
Had hung about the bed of death,
Unconscious of the baleful breath
Of fell disease; and soon his smile
Grew languid, and his body faint :

So from his home the boy was led ;
His mother, on her own sick bed,
Lay powerless to soothe his plaint.
Slowly and sad a week went on,

A week of darkness and of tears,
A week of wavering hopes and fears,
Hovering around that little one.

But never did his spirit stray

From the sure trust that he should rise

Above the evanescent skies,

Unto the heaven far away.

And visions strange to him were given
Of his little brother gazing

From a star; and an amazing
Glimpse of all the light of heaven,—

Whither soon he passed, for o'er

His senses came a gentle sleep, Which yielded to a calm so deepToo deep for him to waken more