Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/82

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page needs to be proofread.


THE WEAVEE?S BOY. What woe can conquer, or what force controui, That more than love, that instinct of the soul ? Not all the warmest of affection's zeal, Brother for brother, friend for friend, can feel, Or for his bride, the new-made bridegroom prove, Can match that holy, that surpassing love. Then, as he grew, his first faint words to hear, O best of music to a mother's ear ! 'Till he at lastto thy 1ov'd knee would creep, And, looking in thy face, say," Mother, wherefore weep That question rais'd a fuller gush of tears, But they relieve, and then the smile appears. Oft with maternal pride she view'd the child, His face so fair, his large blue eye so mild; And such his temper; one, whom nature forms, Unfit to struggle with life's ruder storms. O born in sorrow, sorrow soon to know, Nurs'd in the lap of grief, and rear'd with woe, What wonder if thy meek and timid soul From all around, a kindred nature stole ? Oft, as he past a childish groupe at play, He seem'd to ask, "Why am I not as they ?" Not so defin'd the feeling, nor exprest, Yet such the mute sensation of his breast. The father, where was he ? his sullen meal,' Where all in silence s. eem'd restraint to feel, ......... ?Google