O'ERWHELM'D with sorrow, and sustaining long <br />'The proud man's contumely, th' oppressor's wrong,' <br />Languid despondency, and vain regret, <br />Must my exhausted spirit struggle yet? <br />Yes!--Robb'd myself of all that fortune gave, <br />Even of all hope--but shelter in the grave, <br />Still shall the plaintive lyre essay its powers <br />To dress the cave of Care with Fancy's flowers, <br />Maternal Love the fiend Despair withstand, <br />Still animate the heart and guide the hand. <br />--May you, dear objects of my anxious care, <br />Escape the evils I was born to bear! <br />Round my devoted head while tempests roll, <br />Yet there, where I have treasured up my soul, <br />May the soft rays of dawning hope impart <br />Reviving patience to my fainting heart;-- <br />And when its sharp solicitudes shall cease, <br />May I be conscious in the realms of peace <br />That every tear which swells my children's eyes, <br />From sorrows past, not present ills arise, <br />Then, with some friend who loves to share your pain, <br />For 'tis my boast that some such friends remain, <br />By filial grief, and fond remembrance prest, <br />You'll seek the spot where all my sorrows rest; <br />Recall my hapless days in sad review <br />The long calamities I bore for you, <br />And, with a happier fate, resolve to prove <br />How well you merited your mother's love.<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/verses-i/
