Mother, I leave thee; on thy breast,
Pouring out joy and woe,
I have found that holy place of rest
Still changeless — yet I go.
Lips that have lulled me with your strain,
Eyes that have watched my sleep,
Will earth give love like yours again?
Sweet mother, let me weep.
You see the slender spire that peers
Above the trees that skirt the stream;
'Twas there I passed those early years
Which now seem like some happy dream.
You see the vale that bounds the view:
'Twas there my father's mansion stood,
Before the grove, whose varied hue
Is mirrored in the tranquil flood.
There's not a stone remaining there,
A relic of that fine old hall;
For strangers came the spot to share,
And bade the stately structure fall!
But now, if Fortune proves my friend,
And gives me what may yet remain,
In that dear spot my days to end,
I'll build a mansion there again.
206 THE PATH OF INDEPENDENCE.
THE PATH OF INDEPENDENCE.
An easy task it is to tread
The path the multitude will take;
But independence dares the stake
If but by fair conviction led.
Then haste, truth-seeker, on thy way,
Nor heed the worldling's smile or frown,
The brave alone shall wear the crown
The noble only clasp the bay.
Go, worker of the public weal;
When knaves combine, and plot and plan,
Assert the dignity of man,
Teach the dishonest hearts to feel.
Still keep thy independence whole;
Let nothing warp thee from thy course,
And thou shalt wield a giant's force,
And wrong before thy foot shall roll.
THERE'S a little low hut by the river side,
Within the sound of its rippling tide;
Its walls are gray with the moss of years,
And its roof all crumbly and old appears;
But fairer to me than a castle's pride
Is the little low hut by the river side.
The little low hut was my natal nest,
Where my childhood passed-life's spring-time blest;
Where the hopes of ardent youth were formed,
And the sun of promise my young heart warmed,
Ere I threw myself on life's swift tide,
And left the dear hut by the river side.
This little old hut, in lowly guise,
Was lofty and grand to my youthful eyes,
And fairer trees were ne'er known before
Than the apple-trees by the humble door,
That my father loved for their thrifty pride,
Which shadowed the hut by the river's side.
That little low hut had a glad hearth-stone,
That echoed of old with a pleasant tone,
And brothers and sisters, a merry crew,
Filled the hours with pleasure as on they flew;
But one by one have the loved ones died
That dwelt in the hut by the river's side.
The father and the children gay
The grave and the world have called away;
But quietly all alone there sits
By the pleasant window in summer, and knits,
An aged woman, long years allied
With the little old hut by the river's side.
That little old hut to the lonely wife
Is the cherished stage of her active life;
Each scene is recalled in memory's beam,
As she sits by the window in pensive dream,
And joys and woes roll back like a tide,
In that little old hut by the river's side.
My mother!-alone, by the river side,
She waits for the flood of the heavenly tide,
And the voice that shall thrill her heart with its call
To meet once more with the dear ones all,
And form, in region beautified,
The band that first met by the river's side.
That dear old hut by the river's side
With the warmest pulse of my heart is allied,
And a glory is over its dark walls thrown
That statelier fabrics have never known;
And I shall still love, with a fonder pride,
That little old hut by the river's side.
ELECTRIC essence permeates the air,
Lighting the heavens with its brilliant glare,
Encircling planets in its huge embrace,
Controlling all the elements of space.
'Tis this that sways the immortal mind,
Refines and elevates all humankind.
In it the spirit finds its highest light,
Celestial source of God, the Infinite.
In vain doth man its secrets strive to know;
Time nor eternity can all its secrets show.
Ye minds progressive, whose great spirits yearn
In Nature's face her attributes to learn,
Shut off the gross and dark external view,
The gross and selfish, and behold the true.
Heaven is a flower to full perfection grown,
Earth is a bud that's not yet fully blown;
Both are the offshoots of one parent stem,
Resting like jewels in God's diadem.
Earth seems fairest when by Heaven embraced,
As pearls show purest when near rubies placed.
The height of pleasure is where pain is not;
Heaven is nearest when earth is most forgot.
Of this be sure: when the electric fires
From spheres celestial fan thy soul's desires,
God speaks to thee! as when the gentle dove
On Jesus' head descended from above,
Divinely laden with celestial love.
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