POEMS.
DEDICATION.
to MY MOTHER.
My Mother, thou hast not forgot the hour,
Tho' Time since then is far upon his way,
When youth and beauty crown'd thy bridal bow'r,
And on thy lap thy first-born infant lay
Catching the parting breath of lingering May,
Which, as it whisper'd o'er thy green alcove,
Gave life and freshness to the fervid day;
O'er thee the woodbine's flexile tendrils wove,
And wafted on thine ear the woodland song of love;—
Tho' Time since then is far upon his way,
When youth and beauty crown'd thy bridal bow'r,
And on thy lap thy first-born infant lay
Catching the parting breath of lingering May,
Which, as it whisper'd o'er thy green alcove,
Gave life and freshness to the fervid day;
O'er thee the woodbine's flexile tendrils wove,
And wafted on thine ear the woodland song of love;—
