TO MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN.

From Lily Leaves.

MOTHER, in this strange city, this Babylon of strife,

'Midst the din and rolling mist of the battlefield of life,

I often pause to think of thee; and thoughts, with mystic flight,

Carry me back on wings of love to days of past delight.

I dream I see thy loving eyes look fondly into mine,

Those eyes that beam'd with sacred light o'er words and works divine;

I dream thou still art smiling 'midst the spring flowers young and fair,

Once nurtured by thy loving hand, and tended by thy care.

Oh! still in thought I see thee-I hear thy fond good night;"

I see thy smiling countenance, that thrill'd me with delight;

I hear the echo of thy voice, in accents low and sweet;

And I cannot help but fancy that again we soon shall meet.

But, oh! 'tis only memory-I know that, cold and chill,

They laid our treasure in the dust in the bosom of the hill;

Pale are the cheeks o'er which once beamed, like sunbeams o'er the sea,

The tenderest, dearest smiles of love that earth can give to me.

I often pray'd when thou wert here that God would take me first,

And in my selfish heart this hope with miser care I nursed;

And, oh! if sinful be such thoughts, I pray to be forgiven,

Yet would that God would take me too, or bring thee back from heaven.

I dare not think that o'er thy head the stone of death is rolled;

That now thy dear, dear fingers are as frozen snowdrops cold;

That the lips are clos'd for ever that press'd thy loving child,

That hush'd for ever is the voice that all my cares beguiled.

Oh no! 'twere sinful if I thought of thee like this alone,

Thou bright inhabitant of heaven, before the Father's throne;

For though without the gate, in tears, my thoughts rise from the sod,

I know that thou art gone to rest with the household of our God.

And though thou dwellest here no more, still darling mother mine,

Smile on me from the world of light a smile of peace divine;

Oh, touch me with thine angel-wings, as with a kiss of love,

And often come to me in dreams, sweet mother, from above.

Yes, mother! be as thou hast been-my guardian angel here;

Subdue my grief, bring strength from heaven, and wipe the falling tear;

And if I cannot, night and morn, feel now thy fond caress,

O, mother, from the realms of bliss, cease not thy child to bless.

THE TWO ANGELS.
Longfellow.

Two angels, one of Life and one of Death,
Pass'd o'er the village as the morning broke;
The dawn was on their faces, and beneath
The sombre houses hearsed with plumes of
smoke.

Their attitude and aspect was the same,

Alike their features, and their robes of white; But one was crowned with amaranth, as with flame,

And one with asphodels, like flakes of light.

I saw them pause on their celestial way; Then said I, with deep fear and doubt oppressed:

'Beat not so loud, my heart, lest thou betray The place where thy beloved are at rest!"

And he who wore the crown of asphodels,
Descending, at my door began to knock ;
And my soul sunk within me, as in wells
The waters sink before an earthquake shock.

I recognised the nameless agony,

The terror and the tremor and the pain, That oft before had filled and haunted me, And now returned with three-fold strength again.

The door I opened to my heavenly guest,
And listen'd, for I thought I heard God's
voice;

And knowing whatsoe'er he sent was best,
Dared neither to lament or to rejoice.

For though with the gate, in tears, my tang ræ from the sod,

Im a thot gone to rest with the houserait of our God.

And that it ¿vedest here no more, still during mucher mine.

Smile on me from the world of light a smile of peace come:

À vodi me vah tine angel-wings, as with

Ani ater come u me in dreams, sweet mother, İvan shume

Ts mce: le as thou hast been-ny guardar unge here;

Sabine my grid, bring strength from heaven, ani vie the falling tear;

And I can, rigia and morn, feel now thy imi eres,

3 mother, from the realms of bliss, cease not ay that a bess.