For the Southern Literary Messenger.
UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA,
January 20, 1835.

MR. WHITE,—I enclose you the following lines for insertion in the Messenger. They are copied from the note book of a dear departed parent, whose affectionate tenderness, and sincere and ardent piety,—are portrayed in every line, and breathe from each word, of these simple and touching verses. I am unable, at this moment, to say whether they are, or are not, original; but be this as it may, they cannot fail I think to interest your readers.

FROM THE NOTE BOOK OF MY MOTHER.

When morning, from the damps of night,
Beams on the eye with rosy light,
And calls thee forth with smile benign—
Then think whose heart responds to thine,
And still, with sympathy divine,
"Remember me."
When gentle twilight, pure and calm,
Comes leaning on reflection's arm,
When o'er the throngs of cares and woes,
Her veil of sober tints she throws
And woos the spirit to repose,
"Remember me."
When the first star, with crescent bright,
Beams lonely from the arch of night,
The moon sends forth her cheering glance,
Then—gazing on the blue expanse,
"Remember me."
When mournful sighs the hollow wind,
And pensive thoughts enwrap the mind,
If e'er thy heart, in sorrow's tone,
Should sigh, because it feels alone,—
"Remember me."
When passing to thy silent bower,—
Devotion claims the sacred hour,—
When bending o'er the holy page,
Whose spirit calms affliction's rage,
Directs our youth and cheers our age,
"Remember me."
Oh! yet indulge the ardent claim,
While friendship's heart the wish can frame,
For, oh! but transient is my lay—
And, mingling soon with kindred clay,
My silent lip no more shall say
"Remember me."
And when in deep oblivion's shade,
My cold and mouldering form is laid,
If near that bed thy steps should rove,
With one short prayer, by feeling wove,
One glance of faith, or tear of love,
"Remember me."

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

THOUGHTS ON SEEING THE EVENING STAR.

Mild star of the soul! in the vesper glow
Of the lingering daylight beaming—
There's a priceless balm to the bosom of woe
In the light from thy coronet streaming.
From the placid arch of the evening sky,
And the waveless ether sleeping—
Thy spell descends to the dewy eye,
And our woes dissolve in weeping.
On the lightning wings of memory borne,
We retrace the paths of our gladness,—
And the bounding bliss of our vernal morn
Brings smiles to lighten our sadness.
With the airy step and the bird-like song
Of our youth on the star-lit mountain,
We dance to the streamlet's tuneful tongue,
Or lave in the gelid fountain.
We renew the joys of the wild-rose bower
Where the burning vow was plighted;
And again in the calm of the genial hour
We drink the warm kiss delighted.
In the smiles of a Mother's love we stand,
The tears of joy repressing,
And we thrill at the touch of a Father's hand,
As we kneel to ask his blessing.
These—these are the thoughts that thy talisman ray,
Calls up from the years departed;
And these are the joys that in hope's decay,
Yield a balm to the broken-hearted.