nd I had but one birth,
It came from heaven to gladden earth--
And brighten man's abode;
To feel the magic of its power
Is richer boon than any dower
The earth has yet bestowed.

Favored in this has been my lot;
Relentless Death has robbed me not--
Though fifty years have flown,
Of all the ecstasy and joy
That came to me when but a boy,
Or since to manhood grown,

Of that benign maternal smile,
Whose magic influence can beguile
My heart from worldly care,
And lead me toward that beacon-light
Of motive pure and act aright,
No matter when or where.

O blessed influence of the past!
May all my mother's counsels last
Until my heart shall cease
To send its crimson current round
The tenement wherein 'tis bound,
And Death shall bring release.

Still let these visions come to me
Of her I would so gladly see
Though far from her I roam;
They bring sweet memory of the past,
Which but a few more years may last,
Of happiness and home.

THE EVENING BEFORE MY BROTHER'S FIFTY-THIRD BIRTHDAY.

Dear Brother, how the time speeds on
And leaves its trace upon our forms;
The days of sunny youth are gone
And age unfits us for the storms
That gather oft for you and me--
To-morrow you'll be fifty-three.

It seems but yesterday since youth
Was all aglow within our hearts,
But still we recognized the truth,
Old age has pierced us with his darts
Until from pains we are not free--
To-morrow you'll be fifty-three.

Long years of toil and anxious care
Have left their records all too plain;
The failing eye, the snowy hair,
The limbs and body racked with pain,
Tell tales that all the world can see--
To-morrow you'll be fifty-three.

Still on life's battlefield we'll fight
And win such victories as we may,
Believing still that right is might
And faithful hearts shall win the day;
Then let us shout and sing with glee--
To-morrow you'll be fifty-three.

And when a few more days are past
And we are bowed with years and care,
The cheerful sunshine still may last
To make declining years more fair;
Ah! much I hope that this may be--
To-morrow you'll be fifty-three.

'Tis sweet to think of boyhood's days
And all the happiness