Mother's Dream and Other Poems. Gould Hannah Flagg

      Hush! let the sigh in escaping be stopped:

      Be the dim chamber all silently trod!

      Let not the tear, that is rounded, be dropt!

      Oh! ’t is a spirit returning to God!

      Angels are softly untwining the strings,

      Loosing its ties to the beautiful clay;

      Lo! they have lifted their hovering wings:

      Joyous they waft her in triumph away!

      Sorrow not now, o’er the spiritless form,

      While on its features death’s lilies unfold:

      Break not the heart for another so warm,

      Stopt in its pulse by a finger so cold.

      Time ne’er shall whiten a lock of that hair,

      Silken and full, round the forehead, that shines.

      Age shall not come, nor the finger of care,

      Marking that brow with their deep-going lines.

      Ne’er will those lips be unsealed by the sigh:

      Anguish will never that bosom invade:

      Tears roll no more from that calm sleeping eye:

      Peace o’er the clay her smooth mantle has laid.

      Plant a young flower, in beauty to spread,

      Tender and pure, where the dust shall repose.

      Look then from earth, whence the bright spirit fled,

      Up, where to gladness and glory it rose.

      Spare, ruthless fowler, spare

      That harmless robin’s breast!

      Its downy vesture do not tear;

      But leave the life-blood circling there,

      Again to warm her nest;

      For she is hastening home with food

      Provided for her callow brood.

      Her tender offspring see,

      Were now thy shot to fly,

      Left, as thy helpless babes would be,

      ’Reft of their mother and of thee,

      To moan, and pine, and die.

      Then let her pass unhurt along;

      And she will thank thee with a song.

      Thou, whose power assumes the form,

      Now, of this wild wintry storm,

      Let it still in mercy be

      Shown upon the raging sea!

      O! for him, who tosses there,

      Father, hear this midnight prayer!

      Solemn darkness shrouds the world;

      While, with mighty wings unfurled,

      Thus the winds in fury sweep

      O’er the land, and o’er the deep,

      Thou, whose thought from death can save,

      Guard the life that ’s on the wave!

      Cold and dreary is the night;

      Snow-clouds wrap the beacon-light;

      Rocks and ices, like a host

      Armed for battle, bar the coast;

      For the coming bark appear!

      Guide her! save her! Father, hear!

      I ’m bound to the house of my Father;

      O draw not my feet from the way;

      Nor stop me these wild flowers to gather!

      They droop at my touch, and decay.

      I think of the flowers, that are blooming

      In beauty unfading above,

      The wings of the angels perfuming,

      Who fly down on errands of love.

      Of earth’s shallow waters the drinking

      Is powerless my thirst to allay;

      Their taste is of tears, while we ’re sinking

      Beside them, where quicksands betray.

      I long, from that fount ever-living,

      That flows by my Father’s own door,

      With waters so sweet and life-giving,

      To drink, and to thirst never more.

      The gold of his bright, happy dwelling

      Makes all lower gold to look dim;

      Its treasures, all treasures excelling,

      Shine forth to allure me to Him.

      The pearls of this world while I ’m treading

      In dust, where as pebbles they lie,

      I seek the rich pearl, that is shedding

      Its lustre so pure from on high.

      For pains my torn spirit is feeling,

      No balsam from earth it receives:

      I go to the tree, that hath healing

      To drop on my wounds from its leaves.

      A child that is weary with roaming,

      Returning in gladness to see

      A home and a parent,