Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/76

Or spelling lesson. Yet that frigid realm
Some sunbeams boasted, whose delicious warmth
Lent nutriment to young amrbition's germes.
"Head of the class!" what music in that sound,
Link'd to my name; and then, the crowning joy,
Homeward to bear, on shoulder neatly pinn'd,
The bow of crimson satin, rich reward
Of well-deserving, not too lightly won
Or worn too meekly. Still ye need not scorn
Our humble training, ye of modern times,
Wiser and more accomplish'd. Learning's field,
Indeed, was circumscribed, but its few plants
Had such close pruning and strict discipline
As giveth healthful root and hardy stalk,
Perchance, enduring fruit.
                                            Beneath yon roof—
Our own no more—beneath my planted trees,
Where unfamiliar faces now appear,
She dwelt, whose hallow'd welcome was so dear;
O Mother, Mother! all thy priceless love
Is fresh before me, as of yesterday.
Thy pleasant smile, the beauty of thy brow,
Thine idol fondness for thine only one,
The untold tenderness with which thy heart
Embraced my firstborn infant, when my joys,
Swelling to their full climax, bore it on,
With its young look of wonder, to thy home,
A stranger visitant. Fade, visions, fade!
Ye make her vacant place too visible,
Ye stir the sources of the bitter tear,
When I would think of her eternal gain,
And praise my God for her.