Page:Poems David.djvu/85

In one bright light his small cottage did seem
To bathe, as with her lovely silver sheen
She lightens up the starry jessamine,
And gently thro' the lattice her soft ray
Falls upon the couch where a mother lay!
How soft her look! how sweet her smile!—
Though the hand of Time has been busy there:—
Had furrowed her cheek and silvered her hair.
"Would that I could be like the wild sea-gull,
That rests and dives round the good ships' hull;
A life of wild adventure is the life for me,
Let me, dear mother, let me go to sea?"
"Horace," said his mother, "can this be thy wish?
Would ye my child mar thy fond mother's bliss?
Thy father's loved form now lies in the sea,
Oh! Horace, my own, thy fate this may be!
In my thoughts, yes, and oft in my dreams,
Thou, my dearest child would ever seem
To sink beneath the oceans' depths.
Or from the storm tossed ship away be swept!"
"Mother!" he said, "on a far distant land,
Fond mem'ry will cling to thee, heart and hand,
As if I sat, dear one, by thy side,
And no broad ocean did us two divide."
I did hope that thou wouldst with me have staid,
And not as a wild bird thus fly away.