To my Sons with my Portrait—

by Stewart

Go flatter’d imags tell the tale

Of years long past away;

Of faded youth; of sorrows wail,

Of time’s too sure decay—

When Mem’ry ling’ring shall retrace

Those days for ever flown;

When in a Mothers fond embrace

Your purest joys were Known;

When with maternal watchful care

Oer the sad couch of pain;

She breath’d to heaven the whisper’d prayer,

Nor breath’d that prayer in vain:

When with delight she caught the smile

Full bright’ning in thine eye,

Joy’d in the sportive gambols, toil,

Or mingled “sigh for sigh”—

When care assail’d to you she clung

And press’d you to her breast,

That fount of life on which you hung

To taste the sweets of rest—

With bliss she watch’d each opening ray

The germ of sense to trace;

The beaming smile, the artless play,

Each varying new born grace—

When age maturer pleasures taught

She listen’d to the tale,

Of youthful games for ever sought,

And school-boys rude assail.—

Of little sorrows, trifling cares,

Of irritation strong;

Of lesson’s missed, neglected prayers,

Of College pranks; and wrong.

To train each scion ere the bud

Corruption should attain,

To stem the storm of passions flood

And warn you to refrain;

While life and pleasures gay career

Insensibly display’d,

Allur’d your hearts without a fear

Till pleasures self betray’d—

In manhood still she lov’d to dwell

With all a Mothers pride,

To magnify! yes! e’en to swell

The talent she descried;

To cultivate those blossoms bright

Expanding into view,

To urge the sanguine mind aright

To yield its fruit when due—

Oh! this the charm of life does prove

And e’en in death shall cheer,

The Spirit of Maternal love

In heaven’s celestial sphere—

When in the sleep of death those eyes,

That heart shall cease to move,

The Mother blest in yonder skies

Shall guard thee from above—

L C Adams

To all together and individually—

P. H. Decb 18. 1825.