TO MY MOTHER.

And canst thou, mother, for a moment think
That we, thy children, when old age shall shed
Its blanching honors on thy weary head,
Could from our best of duties ever shrink?
Sooner the sun from his bright sphere shall sink,
Than we ungrateful leave thee in that day,
To pine in solitude thy life away,

Or shun thee tottering on the grave's cold brink.
Banish the thought! - where'er our steps may roam,
O'er smiling plains, or wastes without a tree,
Still will fond memory point our hearts to thee,
And paint the pleasures of thy peaceful home;
While duty bids us all thy griefs assuage,
And smooth the pillow of thy sinking age.

KIRKE WHITE,

126

THE THREE FRIENDS.

THE THREE FRIENDS.

Three young girls in friendship met, -
Mary, Martha, Margaret.

If the first excelled in feature,

The other's grace and ease were greater;
Mary, though to rival loth,

In their best gifts equalled both.
They a due proportion kept;
Martha mourned if Margaret wept;
Margaret joyed when any good
She of Martha understood;
And in sympathy for either
Mary was outdone by neither.

Thus far, for a happy space,
All three ran an even race,
A most constant friendship proving,
Equally beloved and loving ;
All their wishes, joys, the same;
Sisters only not in name.

CHARLES LAMB.

128

ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL.

ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL.

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,

And saw,

within the moonlight in his room,

Making it rich, like a lily in bloom,

An angel writing in a book of gold.

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said,

"What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And with a look made all of sweet accord

Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,”
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still, and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."

The angel wrote and vanished. The next night

It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

LEIGH HUNT.

THE HAUNTED SPRING.

Gayly through the mountain glen

The hunter's horn did ring,

As the milk-white doe
Escaped his bow,

Down by the haunted spring.
In vain his silver horn he wound,
'Twas echo answering back;
For neither groom nor baying hound
Was on the hunter's track:

In vain he sought the milk-white doe
That made him stray and 'scaped his bow,
For, save himself, no living thing

Was by the silent haunted spring.

The purple heath-bells, blooming fair,
Their fragrance round did fling,
As the hunter lay,
At close of day,

Down by the haunted spring.
A lady fair, in robe of white,

To greet the hunter came;
She kissed a cup with jewels bright,

And pledged him by his name.