to my brother.
13
May Heaven's best blessing rest upon thy young and happy head,
And strew with flowers of heaven's own hue, the future thou must tread.
And strew with flowers of heaven's own hue, the future thou must tread.
TO MY BROTHER.
My brother! on thy natal day,
My heart a sister's meed would pay:
Thou canst not read the thoughts that swell
Fast gushing, from love's fountain cell;
Yet couldst thou hear my secret prayer,
Thy name would be recorded there.
My heart a sister's meed would pay:
Thou canst not read the thoughts that swell
Fast gushing, from love's fountain cell;
Yet couldst thou hear my secret prayer,
Thy name would be recorded there.
My brother! Time's fleet wings have shed
His many changes o'er each head.
Joy's thrilling whispers have been heard,
And sorrow's fount of tears been stirred;
Yet has he left our hearts the same,—
Still bright, affection's hallowed flame.
His many changes o'er each head.
Joy's thrilling whispers have been heard,
And sorrow's fount of tears been stirred;
Yet has he left our hearts the same,—
Still bright, affection's hallowed flame.
Though long since hand in hand, we trod
The pebbled strand, the verdant sod,—
Though Time has breathed his varied strain,
The song of joy, the knell of pain,—
Though now, with yearning hearts we trace
Our sainted mother's vacant place,—
The pebbled strand, the verdant sod,—
Though Time has breathed his varied strain,
The song of joy, the knell of pain,—
Though now, with yearning hearts we trace
Our sainted mother's vacant place,—
