The Angel-Mother's Heaven
O F all the Pagan Creeds, that man
Built on the soul's Elysian plan,
The best, for Pagan Heaven contriv'd,
Is, that in joy the man surviv'd ,
And that his pleasures upon earth
Found in the shades their second birth.
Perhaps, in Christian views refin'd,
That wreath is for the Saints design'd;
Those hallow'd Pilgrims upon earth,
Whose path was bright in Christian worth,
May, as their Heaven's appropriate joy,
The habits of their life employ.
Then should I hope, again to see
A Mother's glance descend on me —
Again (from a celestial sphere)
Should her angelic spirit hear,
And, guarded by her fostering care,
Leave no access, to my despair.
Built on the soul's Elysian plan,
The best, for Pagan Heaven contriv'd,
Is, that in joy the man surviv'd ,
And that his pleasures upon earth
Found in the shades their second birth.
Perhaps, in Christian views refin'd,
That wreath is for the Saints design'd;
Those hallow'd Pilgrims upon earth,
Whose path was bright in Christian worth,
May, as their Heaven's appropriate joy,
The habits of their life employ.
Then should I hope, again to see
A Mother's glance descend on me —
Again (from a celestial sphere)
Should her angelic spirit hear,
And, guarded by her fostering care,
Leave no access, to my despair.
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