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Title: The Young Mother's Vision
Author: Thomas Cowherd [
More Titles by Cowherd]
I saw a fair young mother sitting,
With a babe upon her knee;
Fast through 'er mind sweet thoughts were flitting--
So it did appeal to me.
Her eyes with fondest smiles were beaming
On that infant's lovely face;
She seemed upon the future dreaming,
And I tried her dream to trace.
While her face with love was glowing,
As her babe looked up and smiled;
Thus I sketched her numbers flowing
Freely forth unto her child:
"Charming boy, in beauty vieing
With the fairest rose I see;
This I need not be denying,
That thou dearer art to me.
"Whilst thou slept, I fell to musing
On thy present happy lot;
And thy future for thee choosing,
Soon all other thoughts forgot.
"Thus I chose at first to paint thee--
Growing up toward thy teens;
No corruption near to taint thee
Passing through thy boyish scenes.
"Then I traced out all the labor
Which I would bestow on thee,
That thou mightest grow in favor
With the Lord, as well as me.
"Next I viewed thy mind expanding,
With the best of knowledge stored:
Light divine, and understanding
Gained from God's most holy Word.
"Years flew by; thou wert approaching
Very near to man's estate,
And, to those, around, wert broaching
Thy deep thoughts, with soul elate!
"Again I saw thee; thou wert coming
To the heights of world-wide fame;
My fears arose, I saw ills looming,
And bid thee guard thy spotless name.
"I looked again, and found thee wooing
Damsel modest, rich and fair;
And wicked men sought thy undoing,
Ere thou wert the least aware.
"But, thanks to God! He did preserve thee--
Gave thee, too, a lovely wife;
For duty this afresh did nerve thee,
Struggling with the ills of life.
"Again the vision passed before me,
But some years had fled away;
Thou hadst been sick, the Lord restored thee--
Children were around at play.
"I saw thy wife and thee were growing
In sweetest chaste conjugal love;
To things of God attention showing,
Fitting you for bliss above.
"The curtain drops: thy smiles recall me
To discharge my duties right;
Rich mercies I enjoy console me
For the loss of Vision bright."
1854.
[The end]
Thomas Cowherd's poem: Young Mother's Vision
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