Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: LINES TO MY MOTHER'S PICTURE. O That those lips had language! Life has pass'd With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine—thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solac'd me; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, "Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!" The meek intelligence of those dear eyes (Blest be the art that can immortalize, The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim To quench it,) here shines on me still the same. Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, 0 welcome guest, though unexpected here! Who bidd'st me honour with an artless song, Affectionate, a mother lost so long. 1 will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept was her own; And, while that face renews my filial grief, Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream that thou art she. My mother! when I learn'd that thou wast dead, Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed? Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss— Ah, that maternal smile!—it answers—Yes. I heard the bell toll'd on thy burial day. I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu! But was it such? It was.—Where them art gone. Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, The parting words shall pass my lips no more! Thy maidens, griev'd themselves at my concern, Oft gave me promise of thy quick return; What ardently I wish'd, I long believ'd, And, disappointed still, was still deceiv'd; By expectation every day beguil'd, Dupe of t...