Staunton Spectator, And General Advertiser

From the Southern Literary Messenger

TO MY OWN LITTLE GIRL

BY MRS. J. B. JAMES.

"Now look calm-be strong!"--Mrs. Hemans.

Smooth, smooth are thy features my own little girl-
Gay in the tress of each golden hue'd curl-
Fair, fair is thy brow, and fresh thy young cheek—
Blue, blue doth the violet from thine eye speak.

Thy lips are like leaves from the dewy rose torn,
And thy breath is as sweet as the May scented morn.
Light, light are thy spirits my own little girl-
Pure, pure are thy thoughts as a sea enshrined pearl-
Deep, deep in thy heart lies the fountain of truth-
Clear, clear, it reflects thy most innocent youth.

Thy nature is gentle, confiding and warm,
And a mother's love circles thy step like a charm.
But the beauty and bloom of these hours will fade,
Thy cheek must grow pale, and thy brow wear a shade,
The blue light of childhood will pass from thine eye,
And the rose on thy red lip all withering lie.

The spirits must droop, and strong heart grow faint,
And thy thought may be sullied by earth's evil taint.
And the mother who shields thee so carefully now-
O! the Angel of Pain hath mark'd her for his own,
In many a weary and unfailing sign,
That "dust unto dust" will with hers soon consign!

And little thou know'st in a strange world like this,
What evils befall the poor motherless!
But when the cold clods of the valley are pil'd
Above me-O wilt thou remember, my child,
The prayer that I taught thee, and still look above
To Him who will watch thee with unceasing love?

O worship and trust Him, my own little girl,
And His Wing of Protection will o'er thee unfurl!