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Title: To My Brother
Author: Sarah S. Mower [
More Titles by Mower]
THE SCENES OF OUR CHILDHOOD.
Far back, through the vista of long buried years,
I look through this valley of sorrow and tears;
Like pictures, in bright glowing colors displayed,
The scenes of my life's rosy morn are portrayed.
An image, the foreground presents to my sight,
Which shed o'er my pathway its radiant light;
An image of him who first held my soft hand,
And shouted with joy when his sister could stand;
From him, I first caught the sweet magical art
Of turning to language, the thoughts of my heart;
When first to the school-house he went as my guide.
His heart swelled with pleasure, affection and pride.
Delighted, we ranged o'er the hillside, in spring,
And listened with rapture to hear the birds sing;
Then stopped in the pasture to see the lambs play,
As frolicsome, cheerful, and happy as they.
We ranged o'er the meadow, the forest, and bowers,
Picked berries for mother, and gathered wild flowers,
Dear brother, how oft by the rosebush we sat,
While you caught the butterflies under your hat.
With gay happy hearts to the woodland we strayed,
When autumn its rich pensive beauty displayed;
The robin was chanting her sweet farewell song,
While blithe little squirrels went skipping along.
Those bright little rogues which the husbandmen scorn,
Sly'd into their holes with their cheeks full of corn;
The clear mellow sunlight, in quivering streams,
Sent through the tall tree tops its roseate beams.
Jack Frost and October, when evenings grew cold,
Had drest up the forest in crimson and gold;
The bright leaves were borne on the wings of the breeze,
While we picked up beach-nuts from under the trees.
When trees were all leafless, and snow-clad the ground,
Sweet pleasures at home in our cottage we found;
'Round our bright blazing fire, we'd work, read, or play,
And find sweet employment to fill up each day.
And when evening came, the old hearth we'd surround,
While you cracked the nuts, which in autumn we found,
I tended my kittens, and made up their bed,
You made them a yoke and a nice little sled.
We heard the hens cackle, and thought we were blest,
You flew to the hayloft, and found a full nest,
Then caught up the treasure, and smiled as you run,
With a hat full of eggs, and a head full of fun.
We ran on the snow-crust like fleet nimble deer,
Until our fair cheeks would like rosebuds appear.
I never was lonesome, and never afraid,
If Hiram, my brother, for company stayed.
O, then we were happy in winter or spring,
Yes, happier far than the happiest king.
You grew up to manhood, and left your old home,
But may you he happy wherever you roam.
I ne'er can forget how it made my heart grieve,
When you of the precious old homestead took leave;
I feared that with business and cares overrun,
You'd soon cease to love me as once you had done;
And earth would be shrouded in sadness and gloom,
If I, in your heart, could not always find room.
Though care leaves a shadow on thy manly brow,
Thy heart's warm affections are mirrored there now.
But when you are with me a brief space to stay,
I'm all the while thinking you'll soon go away;
Yet we shall soon meet in a far distant land,
God grant it may be at the Savior's right hand.
[The end]
Sarah S. Mower's poem: To My Brother
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