love old mothers--mothers with white hair
And kindly eyes, and
lips grown softly sweet,
With murmured blessings over sleeping
There is a something in their quiet grace
speaks the calm of Sabbath afternoons;
A knowledge in their deep,
That far outreaches all philosophy.
with caressing touch about them weaves
The silver-threaded fairy-shawl
While all the echoes of forgotten songs
joined to lend a sweetness to their speech.
mothers!--as they pass with slow-timed step,
Their trembling hands
cling gently to youth's strength.
Sweet mothers!--as they pass,
one sees again
Old garden walks, old roses, and old loves.
Saw Two Clouds At Morning
I saw two clouds
Tinged with the rising sun,
And in the
dawn they floated on,
And mingled into one:
that morning cloud was blest,
It moved so sweetly to the west.
saw two summer currents
Flow smoothly to their meeting,
And join their course, with silent force,
In peace each other
Calm was their course through banks of green,
While dimpling eddies played between.
be your gentle motion,
Till life's last pulse shall beat;
Like summer's beam, and summer's stream,
Float on, in joy,
A calmer sea, where storms shall cease--0
purer sky, where all is peace.
John Gardiner Brainard