Page:Pleasant Memories.pdf/143

Closely in thy bosom nesting,
And' t is sweeter far I know,
Than at proudest feast to glow,
Full contentment to dispense
Thus to helpless innocence.

Doth the presence of thy child
Make thy flashing glance so mild?
Thou, who with thy wandering race
Reared mid tricks and follies base,
Ne'er hast seen a heavenly ray
Guiding toward the better way?
Feel'st thou now some latent thrill,
Sorrowing o'er a life of ill?
Some incitement pure and good,
Dim, and faintly understood?
Stranger!'t is the prompting high
Of a mother's ministry,
Yield to that transforming love,
Let it lead thy soul above.

Dost thou muse with downcast eye
On thine infant's destiny?
Alien birth, and comrades vile,
Harsh control, or hateful wile,
Till thy prescient heart forlorn
Sickens at its lot of scorn?
One there is, to whom is known
All a mother's secret moan,