Verses of a life time :: :: University of Virginia Library

The wintry blast was loud and cold,
And clouds flew wildly o'er the sky,
The hard earth crackled 'neath the feet,
And men look'd chill, and hurried by.

I heard a low rap at the door,
The sound that speaks a suppliant's call;
Strange contrast with bold fashion's note,
Or business' short and steady fall.

She enter'd then—a woman lone,
Bent o'er a crutch, and pale with age,
Not hers the beggar's studied plea,
Nor arts, that guileless hearts engage.

There was a gentle dignity,
A chasten'd patience in her strain;
A mien of grave propriety,
That practis'd vice can ne'er attain.

Her dim gray eye look'd up to mine,
“I came,” she said, “a distant road;
I'm very old, and very poor;
And have no friend—no friend but God.

“My son to Charleston bent his way,
With strength and vigor in his frame,
And left me to come after him,
When he should earn industrious fame.

“One year roll'd by—he wrote to me
Fresh from his heart, in tender joy,
‘Lay by your work and care,’ he said,
‘And come to meet your only boy.

“‘I've prosper'd well with daily toil,
And honest living now is mine;
Come live with me, and cheer my home,
And on my stronger arm recline.’

“I came. I sought my blessed child—
I thought my earthly wants had fled;
I came—O, lady, pity me!
My son, my only son, was dead.

“And very lonely is this place,
Tho' many faces crowd around,
A little pittance I would ask,
To reach my native burial-ground.”

At that she paus'd. O, cold the heart
That could refuse that simple tone;
I watch'd her on her parting road,—
New faces came,—and she was gone.

Charleston, S. C. 1834.