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GILBERT.
A mother's sad reproachful eye,
A father's scowling brow—
But he may frown and she may sigh:
I will not break my vow!
I love my mother, I revere
My sire, but fear not me—
Believe that Death alone can tear
This faithful heart from thee.
Acton.
GILBERT.
I.
THE GARDEN.
Above the city hung the moon,
Right o'er a plot of ground
Where flowers and orchard-trees were fenced
With lofty walls around:
'Twas Gilbert's garden—there, to-night
Awhile he walked alone;
And, tired with sedentary toil,
Mused where the moonlight shone.
