What visions of happiness often steal o’er me, As back to my childhood in fancy I roam; And the picture that mem’ry paints brightest before me, Is mother, dear mother,--the angel of home. No love’s like a mother’s, so true and so tender, No love’s so enduring ’neath heaven’s broad dome; And not all earth’s wealth with its pomp and its splendor, Could steal my affection from mother and home. _TO MY SISTER._ May still thy deeds of innocence, Like stars of heaven, shine; And thou retain thy purity, Till Heaven itself is thine! _WOMAN._ The fairest flower that all our path adorns, The loveliest rose amidst the cruel thorns, The brightest star that shines in man’s abode, The sweetest gift that Heaven e’er bestowed! _THE FOX RIVER._ O beautiful river, How gently among The fields and the forests Thou glidest along! ’Mid thy pleasant valleys And cool shady bow’rs, Grow tall fragrant grasses And bright blooming flow’rs. By day o’er thy waters The sun beameth bright, And stars ever twinkle Above thee by night. And never complaining Thou flowest along ’Mid nature’s wide province With laughter and song: Content with thy mission In nature’s great plan; And such is thy lesson Thou teachest to man. _A LITTLE GRAVE._ Sweetly sing, ye little songsters; Smile, ye happy skies; Softly blow, ye wanton breezes-- Here an infant lies! Brightly bloom, ye tinted flowers, Wafting sweet perfume; Gently fall, ye summer showers, On this little tomb. AUTUMN DAYS. The summer joys are fleeting fast From forest, field and glen, And soon shall winter’s piercing blast Sweep o’er the earth again. How lovely were the bright spring flow’rs, That decked the landscape o’er; But now we see, on fields and bow’rs, Their dainty forms no more. The leaves are falling in the wind, From many a lofty height, And birds are calling to their kind, Upon their farewell flight. But still, how cheering is the thought, When other joys have flown; That the little snow-bird leaves us not, But chirps till winter’s gone. _IN HEAVEN._ One pleasant day in June a little thrush Lit on a bough close by my window pane, And as the streams from living fountains gush, Poured forth its sweetest strain. My heart then felt released from every care, And seemed to rise toward Heaven’s enchanted zone, When soon the music ceased, and looking there, I saw the bird had flown. And then the thought came to me of the one Who left me when so youthful and so fair, Who in the light of Heaven’s unsetting sun Lives with the angels there. I little thought, ere those sweet smiles were gone, That she so soon must heed the angel’s call; But all the way He led her safely on Who marks the sparrow’s fall.