Poems (Edwards)/My Mother's Love
MY MOTHER'S LOVE.
"He told me, as he was passing up the river, he looked out upon the water, and saw the reflection of the most beautiful cloud, on which was painted every colour of the rainbow; and, as he was gazing, the evening star shone out; and as its bright rays glanced down on the reflected cloud, he thought it like the love of a departed mother lingering around the pathway of her child."
[From the letter of a friend.
It is the hour of closing day,
The sun has gone to rest,
And pencil'd clouds of every hue,
Are mantled o'er his breast;
The winds go flitting softly by,
Scarce raising as they pass,
The ripples on the river's breast,
That shines like polished glass;
The blossoms that have leant all day,
Above the silvery stream,
Are folding up their rich soft leaves,
In dewy rest to dream.
The day has parted from the hills,
And from the mountain side,
And glancing sunbeams now no more,
Upon the waters glide;
And singing birds no more are heard,
Along the winding hill,
Their songs are hushed, 'tis evening now,
And all around is still,
Save the low rippling of the waves
Against the vessel's side,
And the soft tread of passing feet,—
All,—all, is still beside.
The sun has gone to rest,
And pencil'd clouds of every hue,
Are mantled o'er his breast;
The winds go flitting softly by,
Scarce raising as they pass,
The ripples on the river's breast,
That shines like polished glass;
The blossoms that have leant all day,
Above the silvery stream,
Are folding up their rich soft leaves,
In dewy rest to dream.
The day has parted from the hills,
And from the mountain side,
And glancing sunbeams now no more,
Upon the waters glide;
And singing birds no more are heard,
Along the winding hill,
Their songs are hushed, 'tis evening now,
And all around is still,
Save the low rippling of the waves
Against the vessel's side,
And the soft tread of passing feet,—
All,—all, is still beside.
Deep mirrored in the water's breast,
A glorious cloudlet lies,
A cloud, in richest garments drest,
Reflected from the skies;
And on its brow the evening star
Reflects its holy light,
And makes the waves, that else were dark,
All beautiful and bright;
I linger with enraptured heart,
For 'tis so like the love,—
The warm affection that shines down,
From fondest hearts above.
A glorious cloudlet lies,
A cloud, in richest garments drest,
Reflected from the skies;
And on its brow the evening star
Reflects its holy light,
And makes the waves, that else were dark,
All beautiful and bright;
I linger with enraptured heart,
For 'tis so like the love,—
The warm affection that shines down,
From fondest hearts above.
So like my mother's clinging love,—
Long suffering years have fled,
Since silently they laid her down,
Among the sleeping dead;
And yet I know she loves me still,
I feel that she is near,
I know she hears my faintest sigh,
And sees my every tear;
And, like the star-light on yon cloud,
Her love illumes my way,
And brightens up the waves of life,
With hope's divinest ray.
Long suffering years have fled,
Since silently they laid her down,
Among the sleeping dead;
And yet I know she loves me still,
I feel that she is near,
I know she hears my faintest sigh,
And sees my every tear;
And, like the star-light on yon cloud,
Her love illumes my way,
And brightens up the waves of life,
With hope's divinest ray.
I know thou watchest o'er me still,
My mother! well I know,
Thou lookest from thy far-off home,
On all my steps below;
And O! I feel that whilst I live,
Thy love will gild life's wave,
And guide me, with a pilot's care,
Down to the shadowy grave;
Oh mother! let thy heavenly light
Around my pathway shine,
Until my soul is purified,
And filled with love like thine,
My mother! well I know,
Thou lookest from thy far-off home,
On all my steps below;
And O! I feel that whilst I live,
Thy love will gild life's wave,
And guide me, with a pilot's care,
Down to the shadowy grave;
Oh mother! let thy heavenly light
Around my pathway shine,
Until my soul is purified,
And filled with love like thine,