In fancy I launch on the shimmering sea That’s lighting with glory its waters for me; Like a sprite of the ocean the boat seems to glide, As lightly the oars dip the opaline tide, Till out in expanses, afar from the shore, Away from life’s din and tumultuous roar Where, gently I’m rocked on the breast of the deep, While symphonic waves woo the Lethe of Sleep. A broad, shining pathway is westward unrolled— I watch the bright wavelets, with tresses of gold, Run out in wild play to the visual rim Where the sky bends to kiss them in distance so dim, Till thought is enchanted—anxiety flees, And weariness slips into somnolent ease; The silences seem to have rhythmical beat— ’Tis footfalls of wakefulness, now in retreat. Forgetfulness softly creeps into the mind, Suspecting no trace of resistance to find, But wakefulness turns back, commands and forbids— Yet, Slumber steals past her and touches the lids; Then Morpheus bears me away in his arms To his realm that’s swept of all fears and alarms Where, lulled with his stupors, of poppy and rose, I dreamily, dreamily sink to repose. Mother. When evening falls softly, with far away dreaming, Oft steals o’er my spirit a rapturous seeming— I feel the light touch of her hand as of old, When bending above me with good night caresses, She lovingly pushed back the long heavy tresses, And smoothed out the tangles of gold. Touch memory’s harp in the silence of even, And loved ones will leave e’en the raptures of heaven, And come to us then when the gates are ajar: With mother’s face, ever most central and tender, They light all the Past with a rosy-hued splendor And the soul’s secret chamber’s unbar. From hidden recesses they bring out its treasures— Among them are shining youth’s dream-lighted pleasures, When mother-love blent with, and hallowed them all; The haunts that the years with their sunsets have gilded, The castles of beauty that child-fancy builded, All come in the gloaming at memory’s call. ’Twas down by the river, where bluebells were sweetest And swift-footed hours forever ran fleetest, Enthralled by the charm, that I loved most to roam— To watch where the sunshine and ripple wove wimples, Like smiles, on a rosy face, dancing with dimples, Forgetful of duty till mother called home. Right-angled with the river-bank’s water-worn ledges The forest and farm knit their raveled-out edges, In a brambled rail-fence. From the pasture’s green field, Thro’ the edge of the woodland, a path, fringed with mosses And bushy green tangles with clematis flosses, Half the charms of the deep wood revealed.