A Last Word (To My Mother)
Not more removed with the long years’increase,
Through hours when storms upon thy roof of clay
Have beat, or when the blossom of the May
Has to the fettered winter smiled release, -
Not from my heart one thought of thee could cease,
O loved and mourned to-day as on that day
When from my sight thy presence passed away,
Thou spirit of all gentleness and peace.
Nay, in the long, long ways I walk alone,
Still with me! On my brow thy touch is laid
Softly, - when all to great my burden grown . . .
And I shall go, serenly, unafraid,
Into the dark-well knowing what dear tone-
Whose hand to mine- O thou beloved shade!
Mother’s Grief, The
So fair the sun rose, yester-morn,
The mountain-cliffs adoring!
The golden tassels of the corn
Danced in the breath of morning;
The cool, clear stream that runs before,
Such happy words was saying;
And in the open cottage door
My pretty babe was playing.
Aslant the sill a sunbeam lay-
I laughed, in carless pleasure,
To see his little hand essay
To grasp the shinning treasure.
To-day no shafts of golden flame
Across the sill are lying;
To-day I call my baby’s name,
And hear no lisped replying:
To-day-ah, baby mine, to-day-
God holds thee in his keeping!
And yet I weep, as one pale ray
Breaks in upon thy sleeping;
I weep to see its shining band
Reach, with a fond endeavor,
To where the little restless hands
Are crossed in rest forever!
