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FILIAL CLAIMS. 199
Thy form so tenderly, wilt thou forget ?
Wilt thou be weary, though long years should ask
The patient offices of love to gird
A broken mind ?
Turn back the book of life
To its first page. What deep trace meets thee there P Lines from a mother's pencil. When her scroll Of life is finish 'd, when the hand of Death Stamps that strong seal which none but God can break, What should its last trace be ?
Thy bending form
In sleepless love, the dying couch beside, Thy tender hand upon the closing eye, Thy kiss upon the lips, thy prayer to Heaven, The chasten'd rendering of thy filial trust Back to the white-wing'd angel ministry.
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