Poems (Hornblower)/Lines, supposed to be addressed by a little Girl to her Mother

by Jane Elizabeth Roscoe Hornblower

LINES,

SUPPOSED TO BE ADDRESSED BY A LITTLE GIRL TO HER MOTHER.

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Mother! do not mourn for me,
 Do not pour such anguished tears:
I am happy—I am free
 From the toil of mortal years.

Some sweet seasons did I rest
 On thy bosom—now I fly
Through the regions of the blest,
 And my angel pinion try.

Never o'er my infant head
 Came the shades of doubt or fear;
Brightly my young morning fled,
 Till an angel called me here.

Brief the summons—oh! my mother!
 Were it not for leaving thee,
These are blissful scenes—far other
 Than the dreams of infancy.

Thou art mourning—thou art pale—
 How shall I of comfort tell?
O! that I could rend the veil,
 And could show thee where I dwell.

I, amid the cherub host,
 Now surround a Father's throne;
All I loved on earth the most
 Soon will be again my own.

Dearest mother! weep no more,
 Tears like these would shade my bliss,
If on this immortal shore
 There could be unhappiness.

Think not of thine earthly loss,
 Only see thy child in peace;
Take, oh take the hitter cross,
 For my early, blest release.

And when tears of bursting sorrow
 Tell thy heart's unuttered pain,
Look unto that glorious morrow,
 When I shall be thine again!