MY MOTHER'S VOICE.
OH never on my youthful ear
A Mother's gentle, accents broke!
The vital spark, from which I sprung,
Expired, as I to life awoke.
No mother pressed me to her breast,
And bade my childish heart rejoice.
For with my infant first-born wail,
Death hushed for aye my mother's voice.
Alone I climbed the dizzy height,
That led to never-dying fame,
I sought and won, and now I wear
A famous, but unenvied name.
Had she been near, to shield and guide
Her wayward, but her trustful child,
Rare flowerets would have bloomed where now
Are weeds in rank luxuriance, wild.
In visions, sometimes, I behold
Her form of heavenly loveliness;
She speaks, and o'er me gently bends,
And prints on my pale brow a kiss.
And I awake--'tis but a dream!
But still the voice strikes on mine ear,
And from my callous heart calls forth
Up through mine eyes the scorching tear.
Then pass not judgment rash, or harsh,
On stern Misfortune's chosen child,
Who never heard a mother's voice,
On whom a mother never smiled!