lilli^^i.:.'^^ i ill lii''^ f LIBRARY OF CONGRESS^ if ^.^^fpoi^- ^ j jMefrmS. > W I UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.^ — - — — — — — — ■ — '^>f5l EARLY BUDS. ^ LYDIA M. RENO fV7 O, lightly, gently, kindly deal ; Remembering still the truth, My buds were culled amid bright dews In mom of early youth. BOSTON AND CAMBRIDGE: JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY. M DCCC LIII. r:iitiroil, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, hy L E w I s R E N o , ■? In iht Clerk's Office of the District Court of the DiRtrict of M-osstichusctts. STEREOTYPED AT THE lOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. PKESS O. C. RAND, CORNHILI.. ^tBfart. ^ My Early Buds, I send ye forth ^ With fearful, trembUng heart ; Unknowing what your fate may be When from me ye depart. O, ye who take the garland up, • 'Twined in youth's early trust, O, do not dash it coldly down, To wither in the dust ; — But Hghtly, gently, kindly deal ; Remembering still the truth, My Buds were culled, amid bright dews. In morn of early youth. Then judge not harshly, or condemn ; Ye know not what ye do ; For if the tide of song be checked, The fount must perish too. L. M. R. Cnntfnts PAGE The Spirit Land, . .9 Little May, • .... 13 Stanzas, 17 The -winged Visitor, 19 Dirge for a Child, 21 A Dream, 24 Spring Flowers, 27 lines written on my fifteeixth Birthday, 30 Guardian Angels, 32 I saw thee once, 34 A Lament, 38 Beauty and Worth, 40 The Eagle, 43 Entrance of the Vale, 45 The Thunder Storm, 47 The Return, 49 A Dirge for my little Sister, 53 The Voice of Woe 56 Woman's Rights, . 5S AVhen I am gone, 61 The Stars of Night, Go 1* 5 6 CONTENTS. Spring, 68 Farewell, 71 Lines, 73 The young Minister, 76 Night, 79 The dying Girl, 82 The old Oak Tree, 87 I love thee, 91 Life, 93 Fragment, 9-5 Farewell, Mary, 96 A Tribute to the Memory of Mrs. S. W. B., . . . . . . 98 The Daffodils, 101 I know that my Redeemer liveth, 104 The Soul, 106 The Snow, 108 Despondency, .111 Wouldst pinion the Eagle ? . . . . ! . . . .114 In Life and Death unchanging still, 117 The Early CaUed, 119 The Midsummer Night, 121 Mary's Return, 124 Flowers, 126 To thee, 128 Autumn Winds, 131 To my early Friend, 134 Death of the Only One, 137 O, Earth is very beautiful, 139 Affection, 141 Mother, thy Baby is asleep, 143 I think of thee, 145 CONTENTS. Piaver, 148 ? 168 The Snowdrop, ^^^ Wallace, 1^3 Father and Mother, 155 The Sunset, '. . . 157 They sleep in Dust, 1^1 Come to me now, .... 16o Do you remember Thou art fading, 172 Will ye think of me ? 176 A Winter Scene, 1^^ A Dream of Heaven, l^'* We were Children together, 188 The Early Lost, 1^^ The Trial of Love, 1^2 The Graveyard, 1^^ Song, 199 Lines to , ^^^ oi I, . . 203 Slumber on, Come to the Forest, ^^^ ToMrs. Lydial. Pierson, 210 Father, forgive, ^^^ ^ 214 Dreams, October, "^^^ A Dream of thee, The Stars, ^^^ The Bhghted Bud, -^^ The Lost Treasures, ""' The Last Look, ^^^ The Parting of Napoleon a:id Jo';rph:uc, 233 A Dirge for Lila, 235 8 CONTENTS. I bless tliee, O my Father ! 237 Lost Maggie, 241 S^\atzerlaud, 248 Lines to the Memory of Mrs. Mary Dexter 250 Thou art changed, 253 Apostrophe to Death, 257 Death's Reply, 259 Minstrel, sing, 261 Weep, 263 Thou art afar, 266 Forgive, 269 Triumph, . . . • .271 Where are they ? 272 A Paraphrase of the Lord's Prayer, 275 I Avould not be forgotten, . 290 Love, 292 Old Memories, 294 To the Spirit of Mrs. Hemans, . .297 The Angel's Visit to Earth, 302 Winter Wind, . . . ' 306 ilje spirit f nni. 'Tls sweet, when tempests earth deform, And whirlwinds sweep the slty. To know a haven from the storm, When worlds themselves must die." I^HE Spirit Land ! the Spirit Land ! - Forever fadeless doth it stand ; Desideratum of the soul, Though Jordan's sullen waters roll. The constant eye of steadfast faith, Through gloom, that clouds the wave of death, With exultation e'en can gaze On its primeval glory blaze. The tree of healing, ever there, Waves its bright boughs in cloudless air ; 10 EARLY BUDS. Taste but its fruits, and evermore The anguish of thy heart is o'er. The river Life Eternal flows, And angels on its banks repose ; Drink, where the waters gushing burst ; Drink, that ye nevermore may thirst. Immortal souls are hastening on ; In hoary age, and youth's bright dawn, They're crossing still the shadowy wave : Mount Zion's shores are o'er the grave. Their ears are raptured by the song That rises from the ransomed throng ; They go to swell the symphony Of deathless bliss, from sorrow free. And they have flown to that bright coast,- The fond, the pure, the early lost, — And, waiting for us, now they stand At portals of the Spirit Land. EARLY BUD 8. 11 Then be thou strong, sad child of care, And let thy heart be centred there. Soon shalt thou hear the summons home : Rest for the weary ; wanderer, come. And take thy lyre, thou child of song, And haste away to join the throng ; 'Twill echo back a nobler strain When praising God, the Lamb once slain. And murmur not, thou drooping one. Though setting be thy young life's sun ; The glorious Sun of righteousness Will, rising, gently whisper peace. Sweeter to cross the wave at morn — Ere 'midst the flowers thou find'st a thorn — Than linger here till winter's night Sheds its chill snows thy heart to blight. Thou'rt passing where eternal youth, And purity, and love, and truth, 12 EAKLY BUDS. Summer and sunshine wondrous fail In heaven's radiance perfect there. Let a triumphant paean sweep, And swell with exultation deep ; My soul with rapture doth expand, To know there is a Spirit Land. little Ps. IN the longest days of summer, When the earth was thick with flowers, On the river danced the smibeams, In rich floods of golden showers. When the birds were singing sweetest, On the fragrant, leafy spray, Then she faded 'midst the blossoms, Our bright treasure, little May. When she came, we thought we loved her Dearly as our souls could love ; But each softly-passing moment Still our hearts would fonder prove. 2 '^ 14 EARLY BUDS. Azure eyes, and silken tresses, Golden as thS sunny ray ; 0, our very lives were woven With the life of little May. And when sickness fell upon her, How we shrunk beneath the rod ! For we knew it was the Father Calling for our household god. In the stilly summer even, With the sunbeam's parting ray. Hovering angels up to heaven Bore the soul of little May. Wildly weeping, hung we round her, From her brow smoothed back the hair ; Placed our hands o'er her yoimg bosom, But there were no throbbings there. Like a pale and spotless lily, Pure and beautiful she lay ; Death's dark angel had not taken Loveliness from little May. I EARLY BUDS. 15 0, the sorrow, 0, the anguish, When we felt no pressure warm. And no kiss returning answer From her lifeless, rigid form. And the little narrow coffin, And the grave, the fresh, cold clay : Damp clods rattling on the bosom Of our darling bright-haired May. 'Twas as if a spell had bound us,— Awful spell we could not break, — And we feared within her chamber E'en an echo light to wake. Deadening was the weight of sorrow That upon our spirits lay, As in vain we watched and listened For the step of blue-eyed May. But it came not ; and our spirits Grew through length of time resigned. Though the memory of our treasure Liveth ever in our mind. 16 EARLY BUDS. And full often, as we wander Where glad-hearted children play, Even think we see the gleaming Of the golden hair of May. Yet we know that, now exalted Far beyond the farthest star, Our fair darling now is singing, Even as the angels are. On the bosom of the Shepherd, In the realms of endless day, Rests our lamb, our loved, our treasure, Happy, little, bright-haired May. Stomas, ** Visions of beauty, wild and bright. Are nestling in my brain." OFOR an eagle's plume'd wings, To bear me far from earthly things ! I'd bathe in yon celestial clouds That float around like fleecy shrouds. The world is bright before my eyes ; No dark, uncertain clouds arise ; Like a wild bird upon the wing. No song of sorrow can I sing. My harp is tuned to lively themes ; It wanders off in fairy dreams ; 2* ^' 18 EARLY BUDS. I cannot teach its quivering chords To warble numbers forth in words. For, 0, my breast is glad and free ; I see a pleasure in each tree ; A glorious, sunset evening hour Hath o'er my heart a thrilling power. The peaceful river's sparkling tide — Where the bright waves serenely glide, As if rejoicing in their might — Doth fill my soul with wild delight. But years may waft me down life's stream, And chase away my youthful dream ; And age may come, with withered face, To fill a young and buoyant place. Yet, still, whate'er to me is shared, 0, may I bear with heart prepared ; And, while I deem it from my God, Bow meekly 'neath the chastening rod. rpHE night storm raged without, wild, dark, and dreary; -*- No ray of light illumined east or west ; A little bird, with pinions wet and weary, Tapped gently on my window pane for rest. I raised the lattice, and tlie little wanderer, With plumage damp, and trembling, drooping form, Flew quickly, gladly into my warm chamber. Rejoiced to find a shelter from the storm. I kept it till the morning sun was streaming With beams of splendor in each glorious ray. And fleecy clouds in the bright heavens were gleaming : The wild, dark tempest all had passed away. 20 EARLY BUDS. And then I knew the light-winged bird was pining For the dear freedom of its own blue sky ; And, the sweet treasure of one night resigning, I oped the window as I bade it fly. And 0, the song^the thrilling burst of gladness, That rose upon the morning's balmy air ! As if to sing away each thought of sadness, It lingered long upon the oak tree there. Bird, if the night storm should again overtake thee. And thou be lost amid the tumult deep, Then come to me ; thrice welcome will I make thee. And shield thee, gladly, from the tempest's sweep. f irp for H Cp&. ' It must be sweet iii cliildhood to give back The spirit to its Maker, ere tlie heart Has grown familiar witli the paths of siu, And sown, to garner up its bitter fruits." Mks. SiGorK>"i.i A AVAILING cry of anguisli swept Around a dying bed ; A fair young mother wildly wept Her first born, and her dead. 0, forms were bowed, whose loving hearts Were almost rent in twain ; And lips were wildly pressed to his, That answered not again. The soul, through all that weary night, Was struggling to be free : 22 EARLY BUDS. But, Father, with the morning light He was asleep with thee. Ah, yes ; asleep in Jesus, there Upon his couch he lay ; And brightly on his forehead fair Fell the first beam of day. But now all agony was o'er, All suffering was past ; His hands were clasped, his eyes were closed, His heart had throbbed its last. 0, strange are we in this cold world, — Where each fond hope is riven, — That we should murmur thus to yield An angel back to heaven ; — Should grieve to see the cheek grow pale, And dim the loving eyes, E'en when we know the raptured soul Is passing to the skies. EARLY BUDS. 23 But O, the strong, deep sympathies Implanted in the breast Will wildly wail o'er severed ties, And cannot be at rest. Yet spotless to the Father's fold The gentle lamb has fled ; Then let not tears of anguish mourn The blesse'd, early dead. ^ ^xmiM And could thia be but mere illusion ? Could fancy all so real seem ? Sure fancy's scenes are wild confusion; And can it be I did but dream?" T DREAMED, and 0, the blissful dream -^ My spirit had of thee ! 0, sacred, heavenly, even now, Its memory unto me. Methought the night was wild and dark, No cheering star to guide ; Yet little recked I of the storm, For thou wert by my side. Thy kind arms clasped my trembling form, Thy whispers met my ear ; EARLY BUDS. My all of bliss was near me then -— How could my spirit fear ? Thy cold indifference all was gone, And gone thy careless tone ; And fondly didst thou say thy heart Throbbed but for me alone. Within each breast love reigned with deep And overwhelming power ; Methinks the very bliss of heaven Could scarce transcend that hour. 'Twas but a dream ; and 0, what woe To wake, and find it prove A baseless vision ! but on earth I'll never cease to love. Yet thou art happy : be it so ; Thy happiness is mine ; How could I bear that thought of woe Should cloud that brow of thine ? 3 25 26 EARLY BUDS. And 0, 'tis untold bliss to know, Though thou art here denied, In yon bright heaven my weary soul May wander by thy side. spring |l0ters, T HAVE brought the first flowers of spring -^ From a lovely and lonely vale, Where the streamlets flow, and the breezes sing, And the night winds wildly wail. And the feathery fern leaf grows, And the gentle young daisies rest, And the waving pine tree its shadow throws On the rill's low-murmuring breast. And the birds are singing sweet. And the grass grows green and fair, And the graves of my kindred, that calmly sleep, Are made on the hill top there. 28 EAULY BUDS. And the wind from the southern clime, It maketh the rose bush wave, And shake down its blossoms, in summer time, On my little sister's grave. 'Tis a long, long time ago ; Years have rolled in their channels deep. With their joy, and sorrow, and care, and woe, Since they laid her down to sleep. And I was too young to know ; And I called her, and deemed she slept ; But my mother's tears were my answer then, And I wist not why she wept. 0, yes, it is long ago ; Yet the same dark pine trees rise, And the same pale moon, and the brilliant star, Shine down through the summer skies. 'Tis a beautiful spot to rest, When the spirit hath crossed life's wave ; EARLY BUDS. 29 The sinking sun in the glowing west Shines bright on each turfy grave. And when weary with care and woe, And my spirit is over-tried, I shall bid farewell to this lonely world, And lie down by my sister's side, — And the night wind above my bed, Where calmly in death I sleep. Will sigh through the tall grass mournfully, And hush me to slumbers deep. It is meet that we all should die. For the spirit would be oppressed ; And Mother Earth calls her children hon:ic, To sleep on her gentle breast. 3* fines iDtittcii oil nig fifteenth iirtljtofi^ " The dreams of each successive year Seemed bathed in hues of brighter pride." Willis G. Clakke. TTAYE fifteen years now passed away, -■-J- And left me here this happy day ? So short, so fair the time has been, I cannot think I am fifteen. Yes, fifteen years have o'er me sped, My hours with joy and gladness fed ; It seemeth like a passing scene ; I cannot think I am fifteen. No care by me has e'er been borne ; Loving my friends, loved in return, EAKLY BUDS. 31 Was to my heart the dearest thing That this glad earth can ever bring. I never tasted sorrow's draught ; By other lips it hath been quaffed ; My life has been a summer day, That gayly passed so swift away. The earth's green carpet, decked with flowers, The summer sky, the rosy bowers. The singing birds upon the lea. Were all a world of joy to me. 0, should my God prolong my life On this glad earth, with gladness rife, My prayer is, that each year I last May be as bright as that that's past. ^uarMiiu angels. When o'er the eurth is hovering balmy Bleep, And watching angels their pure vigils keep." T.W.Lane. nriHEY tell me of angels, that brightly roam -■- From a world of shadows, where all is bloom ; Of a fair, a joyous, and happy band, That come to earth from the Spirit Land. They're here but to guide our poor, weary feet, When the storms of trouble and sorrow beat ; To cheer and guard by their gentle love. And lead us up to the home above. At midnight hour they are round our bed, When the curtain of slumber is o'er us spread, EARLY BUDS. 33 And bring bright dreams on their gentle breatli Of their sunny home, o'er the wave of death. O that some kind angel would stand by me, To guard me from evils I may not see, To cheer and guide me, while here I roam In this land of sorrows, my earthly home ! For I know I'm a wilful and wayward child, That my heart is stubborn, my passions wild, My daring' spirit ill brooks control, And longs to be free as the waves that roll. Then hover around me, ye angels bright ; - 0, come from the mansions of joy and light ; And spread your wings over all I love, And lead us up to the home above ! I sato t\m mtt & There are moments in life that are never forgot, Which brighten and brighten aa time steals away ; They give a new charm to the hapi)ic'st lot, And they shine on the gloom of the loneliest day." rEECIVAL. T SAW thee once, and ever now -*- There is a void within my heart ; A shadow lingering on my brow, Which will not part. I gazed into those eyes that burn, Those dreamy, liquid orbs of thine ; And on me now, where'er I turn, They seem to shine. EARLY BUDS. 35 I heard thee sing, and O, that song ! I fancy I can hear it still ; It swept my spirit's chords along With strange, deep shrill. You sang a dirge — 0, sad and lone — For beauty early passed away ; The echo of that mournful tone Must ever stay. Then of deep love your sweet lips sung, Love that would triumph over death ; O, while it trembled on your tongue I hushed my breath. When next to faith was tuned thy lay, My doubting soul could e'en receive ; 0, still I seem to hear thee say, Lord, I believe. Whene'er the song was gay and bright. Thy features wore a winning smile, 36 EARLY BUDS. That seemed to sav, My licart is liglit ; Be glad a while. And when the solemn, dirge-like tone, All quivering from thy spirit, rose. Thy voice was tremulous and lone For others' woes. When breathing love, in that bright hour, Impassioned glances seemed to prove That thou hadst known the thrilling power Of mighty love. But 0, to victory and faith, Thine was a look of holy trust. That spoke, I'll triumph over death, Though in the dust. Yea, every feature seemed to say, — Thy upraised eyes, thy throbbing heart. Ye may not fetter down to clay The immortal part. EARLY BUDS. 3^ Thy memory is a mournful spell, A sad; yet sweetly-lingering dream But O, my soul must say ftirewell, Till o'er death's stream. 4: I lltllUllt. ■" Knowing but love's unclouded sun, Her dream of earth was bright as brief Rejoice that, when the goal she won. Her crown had not a withered leaf." E. r\ THEY have laid thee sadly down to rest, ^^? The cold, damp earth above thy bosom pressed, And sighs are heaved, and bitter tears are shed, That thou art sleeping with the early dead. 0, thou wert gentle, l^eautiful. and fair, And dark the tresses of thy flowing hair ; E'en while I think of thee my soul must sigh, And bitter tears, unbidden, fill mine eye. 0, there was weeping round thy silent clay, When the pure spirit fled from earth away ; EAllLY BUDS. , 39 Sorrow's dark wings had hovered oft before Above thy friends, yet now the cup runs o'er. Thou wert the joy, the sunshine, and the bloom, The pride and solace of thy happy home ; And they have lost, on life's tempestuous sea, A brilliant gem of worth, in losing thee. Softly thou'st laid life's weary burden down ; O, nevermore shall sorrow's withering frown, Or care of life, disturb thy quiet breast — All strife is o'er, thy spirit is at rest. Then sleep, dear loved one, in thy early tomb ; The flowers of summer on thy grave will bloom, T4ie lonely night wind o'er thy bed shall sigh, While thy young soul rests far above the sky. §mutj aiiir ffilDrtl]. " Beauty consists not in the sparlsling eye, Tlie damask cheek and lip, or forehead high ; Not in the graceful form, or glistening hair. Or melody of voice — O, no 1 not there." Miss H. J. Woodmas. f\ WORSHIPPED beauty, many throng ^^ Around thy glorious throne, And bards have sung thy praises long, In an immortal tone. Thy velvet cheek, unstained by care, Thy dark and flashing eye, The waving tresses of thy hair. Thy forehead pure and high, — All these are still the poet's themes, Now, as in ages past ; EARLY BUDS. 41 Yet beaut}' fades as dies a dream ; . Its triumph may not last. And it is only when thine eye Beams with religious light, And wears thy Maker's impress high. That thou art truly bright. But modest, unassuming worth ! Thou seemest so divine, My humble heart its incense meek Would lay upon thy shrine. Thou lur'st no vain and idle crowd ; Thy worshippers are few ; Yet every heart, before thee bowed. Is constant, tried, and true. Yea, worth, I'll bind the laurel wreath Above thy gentle brow ; For holy is the light that sheds Its halo o'er thee now. 4* 42 EARLY BUDS. Though thy reward may not be here, In life's dull precincts, given, Press on with firm, undoubting faith - Thy crown awaits in heaven. ®fee (&ii^lt " Bold eagle — gazer on the sun ! Child of the upper air." Gkace Greenwood. f\ PROUD, bright bird of the fetterless wing ! ^^ I sweep my lyre, but I find no string That can give back numbers e'en wild and free, A fitting guerdon for one like thee I Thy home, proud wanderer ! — where is thy home ? 'Mid the frowning rocks of the forest's gloom ? Where the cataracts leap in eternal roar. And the mad waves dash on the rock-bound shore ? 'Mid crags, and mountains, and glaciers cold. Thou wert reared and fed since the times of old, 4-4 EARLY BUDS. Where the thunders roar through their caverns deep, And the whirlwinds rush, and the tempests sweep. Thou hast been my country's emblem long ; She has shrined thy name in immortal song ; And wherever is planted her standard high, Thy name is blent with the battle cry. On the folds of our banner, defying fear, Thy sweeping pinions are imaged clear. As chainless and tameless, as wild and free, As the spirit that led us to liberty. Be our emblem for aye, bird of glorious form ! And our watchword forever, through sunshine and storm, And fetterless still, as our own mountain wind. Be the chain of the tyrant all-powerless to bind ! iwixmtt 0f tixe falc, "nATHER ! she, tlie loved one, standetli -*- At the entrance of the vale ; Dews of death are dampening round her, And her brow is snowy pale. Looking down the lonely valley At the darkling shadow's play, Trembling faith is doubting, shrinking From the terrors of the way. Turns she now with longing to us, And her eyes, large, dark, and meek, With their earnest, thrilling glances, Seem imploringly to speak. 46 EARLY BUD.S. Dear one, dear one, earth's affection Now to shield thee hath no power ; Only can we wait with weeping Till is past the anguish hour. In the valley and the shadow. Where dark willows sadly weep. Father ! father ! it is winter — See the tempests wildly sweep. Chilling snows of death are falling, Drifting, drifting o'er her way ; Deeper grow the awful shadows — Savior ! Savior ! be her stay ! Clouds and darkness now obscure her ; She is hidden from our sight — Father ! through the wintry valley. Bear her to the land of light. ®I]e %\\mk\: Bim\i ' Deep, flery clouds o'erspread the sky ; Dread stillness rcigus in air; There is not e'en a breeze on high, The gossamer to bear." Mrs. Hemaxs HUSHED is the zephyr's -whispering breath, Still as the gathering shades of death, And, brooding over earthly things, Destruction spreads her dismal wings. Then lightnings flash, and thunders roll, And shake the earth from pole to pole, And blazing meteors seem to fly Along the fierce, terrific sky. The wind comes on in hollow wail, The tall trees bend beneath the gale, 48 EAELY BXJDS. The sun withholds his dazzling light, Encompassed with the gloom of night. Awe sits in every heart and eye, As peal on peal goes hurrying by ; The muttering waves along the shore Are echoing back the hollow roar. 0, in the thunder's crashing sound We hear thy voice, my God, resound, And in the lightning's flashing grace Behold the brightness of thy face. These are the wonders of thy law ; Father ! they fill our hearts with awe ; Creator and Redeemer ! we, Adoring, bend the suppliant knee. For thou canst murmur, " Peace, be still ! " And winds and waves bow to thy will. Calm rests upon the raging main, And sunshine lights the world again, And brightly beams o'er hill and plain. mj Pttra. ' It was new life — the earth, the sky Seemed to grow fairer for thy sake i But this is gone, O destiny I My )ieart is withered— let it break.' T SEEK thy side again, mother I -*- 0, we were long apart, And the shadows of dark, weary years Have fallen on my heart. There is no sunshine on my brow, No summer in my soul ; 0, would that I could rouse my pride, To spurn love's wild control ! But it cannot, cannot be, mother ! For my heart has e'en been riven. 50 EARLY BUDS. All throbbing, bleeding, from my breast, And to another given. And, 0, he spurns the priceless boon ; ^ The rich, exhanstless mine Has lavished all its hidden wealth Upon a faithless shrine. He came and sought my love, mother ! He wooed me every hour, From the morning beam till the dew of night Was trembling on the flower. And when girlish fondness even deemed That his faith was fully proved, I whispered low, with a faltering voice, How wildly my spirit loved. Bliss were not more complete, mother ! Were I seated near the throne — The worshipped was the worshipper, The idol was my own. The past was a dream of pure delight. The present was bliss to me ; EARLY BUDS. 51 And, 0, the waves of my future life Seemed thrilling with ecstasy. But a change came o'er his brow, mother ! . A look of haughty scorn. Instead of the gentle and loving smile That his features had ever worn ; And, one bright evening, he calmly said, Though his accents crushed my heart. That kindred souls we could never be — We had better forever part. I could gaze on the face of death, mother ! With a calm and tearless look ; But the steel-like tones of that cold farewell, 0, how could my spirit brook ? And this was the meed of my constant love, My unswerving and fervent faith — The idolized doomed his worshipper To a daily-dying death. O, I come to thee again, mother ! For my soul would e'en find rest, 52 EARLY BUDS. And pour out all its bitter griefs Upon thy gentle breast. As the weary wing of the wounded bird Cleaves homeward through the sky, Thus, mother dear I I come to thee, But only come to die. $ §ixQt fax mg little