Lines on being shown a Tress of Hair

InSCEIBED TO MrS. A. SMALLEy, Of KENTUCKY.

This little tress of soft, fair hair,I've kept for many years,Embalmed it with a mother's love,And watered it with tears.

With trembling hand I severed itFrom off a brow so fair:—Alas! of all so beautiful,This death alone could spare

Unto my aching, frenzied sight!Each tear I would repress:But vain; for woman's grief breaks forthIn gushing tenderness.

A fragile plant to me was given;I nurtured from its birth,And watched to see my flower expand—It blooms, but not on earth.

I found it was not given to me—To me 't was only lent;And now, with heavenly choirs above,My radiant flower is blent.

Be still, be still, each murmuring thought;Dost hear that music's flow?More sweetly stealing o'er my soulThan touch of lute-chords low.

It is my darling's voice I hear;It thrills with rapture wild:Fain would I break these bonds of clay,To clasp my angel child.

But I am earthly, earth's dark stainIs on my spirit still:Unmurmuringly I bow my head—"My Father, 'tis thy will."