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to the memory of my mother.
Clustering his head around,
Jetty curls lie;
And his brow, sun embrowned 's
Reft of its dye.
Jetty curls lie;
And his brow, sun embrowned 's
Reft of its dye.
Emotions came o'er her
'Which words cannot vent;
Her lover's before her—
Yes, he of the tent.
A whisper in Romany
On her ear falls;
And morn finds her far away
From her sire's halls.
'Which words cannot vent;
Her lover's before her—
Yes, he of the tent.
A whisper in Romany
On her ear falls;
And morn finds her far away
From her sire's halls.
To the Memory of my Mother.
WRITTEN AFTER HER DEATH IN FEBRUARY, 1850.
Thou art gone from us, Mother—the green turf is o'er thee,
Deep now thy repose in the lone, silent earth;
We weep, but our tear-drops can never restore thee,
All loved as thou wert, to our home and our hearth.
Deep now thy repose in the lone, silent earth;
We weep, but our tear-drops can never restore thee,
All loved as thou wert, to our home and our hearth.
Life's journey to thee, kindest Mother, is ended,
And varied the paths thou has trod on thy way:.
Joy's sunbeams have shown, and grief's showers have descended,
But thine is no longer the storm or the ray.
And varied the paths thou has trod on thy way:.
Joy's sunbeams have shown, and grief's showers have descended,
But thine is no longer the storm or the ray.
