e do we appreciate a mother's tenderness while living! How
heedless are we in youth, of all her anxieties and kindness. But when
she is dead and gone; when the cares and coldness of the world come
withering to our hearts; when we find how hard it is to find true
sympathy, how few love us for ourselves, how few will befriend us in
our misfortunes; then it is we think of the mother we have lost. It is
true I had always loved my mother, even in my most heedless days; but I
felt how inconsiderate and ineffectual had been my love. My heart
melted as I retraced the days of infancy, when I was led by a mother's
hand and rocked to sleep in a mother's arms, and was without care or
sorrow. "Oh, my mother!" exclaimed I, burying my face again in the
grass of the grave--"Oh, that I were once more by your side; sleeping,
never to wake again, on the cares and troubles of this world!"

I am not naturally of a morbid temperament, and the violence of my
emotion gradually exhausted itself. It was a hearty, honest, natural
discharge of griefs which had been slowly accumulating, and gave me
wonderful relief. I rose from the grave as if I had been offering up a
sacrifice, and I felt as if that sacrifice had been accepted.

I sat down again on the grass, and plucked, one by one, the weeds from
her grave; the tears trickled more slowly down my cheeks, and ceased to
be bitter. It was a comfort to think that she had died before sorrow
and poverty came upon her child, and that all his great expectations
were blasted.

I leaned my cheek upon my hand and looked upon the landscape. Its quiet
beauty soothed me. The whistle of a peasant from an adjoining field
came cheerily to my ear. I seemed to respire hope and comfort with the
free air that whispered through the leaves and played lightly with my
hair, and dried the tears upon my cheek. A lark, rising from the field
before me, and leaving, as it were, a stream of song behind him as he
rose, lifted my fancy with him. He hovered in the air just above the
place where the towers of Warwick Castle marked the horizon; and seemed
as if fluttering with delight at his own melody. "Surely," thought I,
"if there were such a thing as transmigration of souls, this might be
taken for some poet, let loose from earth, but still revelling in song,
and carolling about fair fields and lordly towns."

At this moment the long forgotten feeling of poetry rose within me. A
Thought sprung at once into my mind: "I will b