A MOTHER'S JEWELS.

The daughter of a hundred earls,

No jewels has with mine to mate,

Though she may wear in flawless pearls

The ransom of a mighty state.

Hers glitter for the world to see,

But chill the breast where they recline:

My jewels warmly compass me,

And all their brilliancy is mine.

My diamonds are my baby's eyes,

His lips, sole rubies that I crave:

They came to me from Paradise,

And not through labors of the slave.

My darling's arms my necklace make,

‘ Tis Love that links his feeble hands,

And Death, alone, that chain can break,

And rob me of those priceless bands.