Page:Poems Curwen.djvu/190

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182
to my mother.

With its warmth revivifying
Spirit growths, nigh dead or dying,
As into the heart it steals.
How it blesses, how it heals,
Cheering, solacing the living
With its golden beams life giving;
Comforting the sick and dying
In their dreary chambers lying:
Whispering of a fairer shore
Where suns shall rise to set no more.




To my Mother,on her Golden Wedding Day.
Beloved! how shall my sad heart bridge o'er
The gulf which yawns 'twixt you and I to-day?
How reach you on the great Pacific shore,
To greet you on your golden wedding day?

How shall I cross the rolling wastes of sea,
And the great continents which now divide,
On this, the fiftieth anniversary
Of that fair day which made you father's bride?

Only on Fancy's pinions I may wing
My flight across the ocean vast and deep;
Only in saddened measures can I sing
A song destined to make your old eyes weep.