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MARY | I want a lyre with other strings; -
But thou hast little need : There is a book,
There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine, And since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine.
TO THE SAME-Cowper.
THE twentieth year is well nigh past,
Since first our sky was overcast,
Ah would that this might be the last!
Thy spirits have a fainter flow,
I see thee daily weaker grow—
'Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary 1
Thy needles, once a shining store 1
For my sake restless heretofore,
Now rust disus'd, and shine no more,
For though thou gladly would'st fulfil
Thy sight now seconds not thy will,
But well thou playd'st the housewife's part;
And all thy threads, with magic art,
Have wound themselves about this heart,
Thy indistinct expressions seem
Like language utter'd in a dream ;
Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, My Mary 1.
Thy silver locks, once auburn bright !
Are still more lovely in my sight
Than golden beams of orient light,
For could I view nor them nor thee,
What sight worth seeing could I see *
The sun would rise in vain for me,
Partakers of thy sad decline,
Thy hands their little force resign;
Yet gently prest, press gently mine,
Such feebleness of limbs thou prov'st,
That now, at every step thou mov'st
Upheld by two, yet still thou lov'st,
And still to love, though prest with ill,
My Mary 1
But ah! by constant heed I know,
My Mary 1.
And should my future lot be cast
- My Mary f
TO MY FATHER.
Oh! my dear Father, I can ne'er forget,
Thou gav'st me being, far more sweet than this,
IN MEMORY OF MY BELOWED MOTHER.
Who hushed my infant cares to rest ?
Who sweetly stilled my wailing cries 2 Who prayed my dawning thoughts might rise . Above earth's fleeting vanities 2. - My Mother.
In early youth, who soothed my woe
Who mourned when sickness laid me low,
But whispered, “Mercy deals the blow *
Who taught my simple heart the way
In feeble accents first to pray *
Who watched my slumbers, cheered my day 2
Who strove to teach my heart to glow
With gratitude, and melt at woe
Each selfish feeling to forego
who lived in peace and died in faith,
And blest me with her latest breath 2
Who grasped my hand and smiled in death * * My Mother.
O! shade of her I loved so dear!
Thy fond remembrance still I bear
in my sad heart. Thou livest there. My Mother.
SEE the leaves around us falling,
Thus to thoughtless mortals calling,
Sons of Adam, once in Eden,
Hear the lecture we are reading,
Virgins, much, too much presuming
View us, late in beauty blooming,
, Griping misers, nightly waking,