BIRTH-DAY VERSES. "The heart that we have lain near before our birth, is the only one that cannot forget that it has loved us."-PHILIP SLINGSBY. My birth-day!-Oh beloved mother! Before I wept upon thy knees— My own I do not care to check. As if I hung upon thy neck, As if thy lips were on my own, Four weary years! How looks she now? What trace of time has touch'd the brow That listen to her nightly prayer? Whose name upon her lips is worn For whom the night seems made to pray- I know not if my mother's eyes Would find me changed in slighter things; And tasted of some bitter springs ; And many leaves, once fair and gay, But, as these looser leaves depart, The lessen'd flower gets near the core, And, when deserted quite, the heart Takes closer what was dear of yore And yearns to those who loved it first The sunshine and the dew by which its bud was nursed. Dear mother! dost thou love me yet? Am I remember'd in my home? When those I love for joy are met, Does some one wish that I would come? Thou dost-I am beloved of these! But, as the school boy numbers o'er Night after night the Pleiades And finds the stars he found before- My heart is full, mine eyes are wetDear mother! dost thou love thy long-lost wanderer yet? Oh! when the hour to meet again Creeps on-and, speeding o'er the sea, Oh! if my heart break not with joy, And I shall grow once more a boy: To meet thee always with the morn, And hear thy blessing every night— Thy "dearest," thy "first-born!" And be no more, as now, in a strange land, forlorn! TO MY MOTHER FROM THE APPENINES. Mother! dear mother! the feelings nurst How the shorten'd chain brings me nearer thee! 'Tis midnight the lone mountains on The East is fleck'd with cloudy bars, And, gliding through them one by one, The moon walks up her path of stars The light upon her placid brow And happiness is mine to-night, Thus springing from an unseen fount; Dear mother! in thy love I live; The life thou gav'st flows yet from theeAnd, sun-like, thou hast power to give Life to the earth, air, sea, for me! Though wandering, as this moon above, LINES ON LEAVING EUROPE. BRIGHT flag at yonder tapering mast! The wind blows fair! the vessel feels She leaps to the careering seas! In whose white breast I seem to lie, How oft, when blew this eastern gale, I've seen your semblance in the sky, And long'd with breaking heart to flee On cloud-like pinions o'er the sea! Adieu, oh lands of fame and eld! I turn to watch our foamy track, And thoughts with which I first beheld Yon clouded line, come hurrying back; |