 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
217
MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY BURIAL-PLACE, IN SCITUATE, MASSACHUSETTS.
[A JUVENILE PRODUCTION.]
Aurora paints the orient skies with light,
With rosy pencil tinges every cloud,
Unfolds her gates upon the rear of Night,
And strips the mountains of his sable shroud.
With rosy pencil tinges every cloud,
Unfolds her gates upon the rear of Night,
And strips the mountains of his sable shroud.
The conscious stars conceal their twinkling fires,
Night's waning impress turns more sickly pale,
Her votary the whizzing bat retires,
The owl suspends her harsh complaining tale.
Night's waning impress turns more sickly pale,
Her votary the whizzing bat retires,
The owl suspends her harsh complaining tale.
The lark awakes and tunes his matin song,
And all the sylvan warblers join the theme;
The whistling ploughman drives his team along,
And sporting swans sail stately down the stream.
And all the sylvan warblers join the theme;
The whistling ploughman drives his team along,
And sporting swans sail stately down the stream.
Adieu, dull couch! for Nature more can please,
While o'er her rich enamelled breast I stray,
Inhaling sweets which freight the balmy breeze,
Stolen in kisses from the lips of May.
While o'er her rich enamelled breast I stray,
Inhaling sweets which freight the balmy breeze,
Stolen in kisses from the lips of May.
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The peach-bloom in the breathing zephyr plays,
And shakes soft odors from its silken leaves;
The apple, too, a silver garb displays,
Whence morning's breath a rich perfume receives.
And shakes soft odors from its silken leaves;
The apple, too, a silver garb displays,
Whence morning's breath a rich perfume receives.
Here let me stray, adown this mossy ridge;
Observe yon streamlet o'er the pebbles creep;
Pass o'er its little, rude-constructed bridge,
To where, in silence, all our fathers sleep.
Observe yon streamlet o'er the pebbles creep;
Pass o'er its little, rude-constructed bridge,
To where, in silence, all our fathers sleep.
Oh may I never pass this sacred spot,
Unmindful of the dust these walls enclose:
For here, partaking in the common lot,
A tender Mother's relics find repose!
Unmindful of the dust these walls enclose:
For here, partaking in the common lot,
A tender Mother's relics find repose!
Here various stones, on various models planned,
Discriminate between the rich and poor;
Some richly sculptured by an artist's hand,
Some rudely lettered, and adorned no more.
Discriminate between the rich and poor;
Some richly sculptured by an artist's hand,
Some rudely lettered, and adorned no more.
But filial love and sorrow soon discern
The humble state they consecrated here;
The drooping willow weeping o'er the urn,
The quoted motto, and the name most dear.
The humble state they consecrated here;
The drooping willow weeping o'er the urn,
The quoted motto, and the name most dear.
Yes 't is the same—beneath this turfy heap
Lowly reclines the form which gave me birth;
Those arms, the cradle of my earliest sleep,
Are nerveless now, and mingling with the earth.
Lowly reclines the form which gave me birth;
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Are nerveless now, and mingling with the earth.
Those lips, whose accents could my cares remove,
Are sealed in silence, stiffened, cold, and dead!
Those eyes, which beamed with fond, maternal love,
Are closed in darkness, and their lustre fled.
Are sealed in silence, stiffened, cold, and dead!
Those eyes, which beamed with fond, maternal love,
Are closed in darkness, and their lustre fled.
Oh, dear departed! venerable shade!
If earthly objects can thy notice claim,
Accept the tribute filial love has paid,
The pearly gem that glitters on thy name.
If earthly objects can thy notice claim,
Accept the tribute filial love has paid,
The pearly gem that glitters on thy name.
Though five sad years their destined course have run,
Since death confined thy mortal body here,
Yet can not thy poor, sorrowing, orphan son,
Review the spot unmoistened with a tear.
Since death confined thy mortal body here,
Yet can not thy poor, sorrowing, orphan son,
Review the spot unmoistened with a tear.
Hard fate forbade, when nature's tenderest ties
Where severed by the lingering stroke of death,
That filial love should close thy sunken eyes,
Or from thy lips to kiss the parting breath.
Where severed by the lingering stroke of death,
That filial love should close thy sunken eyes,
Or from thy lips to kiss the parting breath.
Forgive thy son, indulgent parent, this,
As he forgives the fate he could not move;
Though oft in duty he has been remiss,
This last neglect was not from want of love.
As he forgives the fate he could not move;
Though oft in duty he has been remiss,
This last neglect was not from want of love.
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For, weeks before, when wasting nature knew
The struggle fruitless for her forfeit breath,
Thy wish I heard, and with impatience flew
To kiss thy cheek before it sunk in death.
The struggle fruitless for her forfeit breath,
Thy wish I heard, and with impatience flew
To kiss thy cheek before it sunk in death.
When faithful memory recalls with pain
This last, sad duty which I paid to thee—
A final parting, ne'er to meet again,
Till from the world and its corruptions free—
This last, sad duty which I paid to thee—
A final parting, ne'er to meet again,
Till from the world and its corruptions free—
I feel the son in all my moving soul;
How truly so, these starting tears reveal;
The sacred drops shall meet with no control!
Affection's tear what son would e'er conceal?
How truly so, these starting tears reveal;
The sacred drops shall meet with no control!
Affection's tear what son would e'er conceal?
Then was the mother all alive in thee;
What wholesome counsel from thy lips I drew—
Which in my breast shall ever treasured be—
The only legacy I had from you!
What wholesome counsel from thy lips I drew—
Which in my breast shall ever treasured be—
The only legacy I had from you!
Since then, dear parent, Joy has seldom smiled
Upon thy son—severe has been his fate—
The world was new—an inexperienced child
Its friendship sought—but only gained its hate!
Upon thy son—severe has been his fate—
The world was new—an inexperienced child
Its friendship sought—but only gained its hate!
He hoped from Fortune but a cheering smile,
But like the world she frowned upon his claim;
He then pursued a fleeting shade awhile—
But broke a bubble when he grasped at Fame!
But like the world she frowned upon his claim;
He then pursued a fleeting shade awhile—
But broke a bubble when he grasped at Fame!
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His only respite, now, from mental pain,
Is o'er his native rural scenes to roam;
A view of this sequestered spot to gain,
Or when away to think of thee and home!
Is o'er his native rural scenes to roam;
A view of this sequestered spot to gain,
Or when away to think of thee and home!
The green turf swells above thy mouldering clay,
The moss has strewed it with the softest felt;
The violets here their loveliest hues display,
To deck the bed on which he oft has knelt.
The moss has strewed it with the softest felt;
The violets here their loveliest hues display,
To deck the bed on which he oft has knelt.
This humble stone, which fond affection placed,
To mark the spot, and to preserve thy name,
Though by a rude, unlettered artist traced,
On his regard has more than marble's claim.
To mark the spot, and to preserve thy name,
Though by a rude, unlettered artist traced,
On his regard has more than marble's claim.
Sacred to thee for ever may it stand;
Forbear, O Time! the tablet to destroy,
Whose lay disarms the king of terror's hand—
“Death is the gate to everlasting joy.”
Forbear, O Time! the tablet to destroy,
Whose lay disarms the king of terror's hand—
“Death is the gate to everlasting joy.”
This truth believed, no more shall baseless fear
Attend the word that speaks of leaving earth;
We seek for happiness—it dwells not here;
In heaven alone are joys of lasting worth.
Attend the word that speaks of leaving earth;
We seek for happiness—it dwells not here;
In heaven alone are joys of lasting worth.
Here some repose who scarce received their birth,
Ere death consigned them to the silent tomb;
Small, though sufficient, is their lot of earth—
The flowers, transplanted, will for ever bloom.
Ere death consigned them to the silent tomb;
Small, though sufficient, is their lot of earth—
The flowers, transplanted, will for ever bloom.
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No age is free from Death's insatiate bow,
His shafts are levelled, and his victims fall!
The rose of infancy, or fourscore snow,
Alike avail not, he must conquer all.
His shafts are levelled, and his victims fall!
The rose of infancy, or fourscore snow,
Alike avail not, he must conquer all.
Those rustic biers against the wall reclined,
The wasting bearers of the archer's prey,
Impress this serious truth upon the mind—
Existence is not certain for a day!
The wasting bearers of the archer's prey,
Impress this serious truth upon the mind—
Existence is not certain for a day!
How oft this pious, all-important theme
Hast thou impressed upon thy list'ning boy,
My much-loved mother!—but the playful dream
Of childhood, pictured only scenes of joy.
Hast thou impressed upon thy list'ning boy,
My much-loved mother!—but the playful dream
Of childhood, pictured only scenes of joy.
Then would we come, my little sisters too,
And one fond brother, through this yard to stray;
Our destined beds beneath the sod to view,
Survey these stones, and read the uncouth lay.
And one fond brother, through this yard to stray;
Our destined beds beneath the sod to view,
Survey these stones, and read the uncouth lay.
Then, as the shades of evening veiled the plains,
Back to yon mansion we would gayly stroll,
The humble benefice which still sustains
The careful guardian of the Christian soul.
Back to yon mansion we would gayly stroll,
The humble benefice which still sustains
The careful guardian of the Christian soul.
Beneath that roof I first inhaled the air,
Poor were my parents, hard they earned their bread,
Rich only in a reputation fair,
And owned no mansion where to lay the head.
Poor were my parents, hard they earned their bread,
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And owned no mansion where to lay the head.
Along yon streamlet, where the whisp'ring reeds
And fragrant flags upon its borders play,
Where through those cedars it meand'ring leads,
My infant footsteps first were taught to stray.
And fragrant flags upon its borders play,
Where through those cedars it meand'ring leads,
My infant footsteps first were taught to stray.
And how a mother's tender, anxious care,
Has oft deprived me of this little joy!
The last love-pledge of this connubial pair,
Their fears were ever wakeful for the boy.
Has oft deprived me of this little joy!
The last love-pledge of this connubial pair,
Their fears were ever wakeful for the boy.
The sylvan muse enticed me to her cell,
My childish fingers wantoned o'er her lyre—
Bade the rude strain, untaught, to wildly swell,
While to the sound each throbbing pulse beat higher.
My childish fingers wantoned o'er her lyre—
Bade the rude strain, untaught, to wildly swell,
While to the sound each throbbing pulse beat higher.
Then as I grew and learned to sweep the strings
By art directed, though less sweetly wild,
I envied not the happiest of kings,
My lyre was bliss, and I a happy child.
By art directed, though less sweetly wild,
I envied not the happiest of kings,
My lyre was bliss, and I a happy child.
But why recount the joys of childhood o'er?
That happy state with all its joys has fled!
As fade the beauties of the tender flower,
When Winter beats upon its drooping head.
That happy state with all its joys has fled!
As fade the beauties of the tender flower,
When Winter beats upon its drooping head.
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But see! the ocean sparkles on the sight,
What lovely hues upon its surface play!
The liquid mirror streams with dazzling light,
Reflecting from the rising god of day.
What lovely hues upon its surface play!
The liquid mirror streams with dazzling light,
Reflecting from the rising god of day.
He comes! and Nature hails his gladd'ning beams,
New life pervades her animated part;
Nor less improved the vegetable seems,
Its charms increase, and laugh at mimic art.
New life pervades her animated part;
Nor less improved the vegetable seems,
Its charms increase, and laugh at mimic art.
Not long ago, adown the western skies
He sank, and left the mourning world in gloom;
But only sank at night, again to rise,
In tenfold splendor, from his watery tomb.
He sank, and left the mourning world in gloom;
But only sank at night, again to rise,
In tenfold splendor, from his watery tomb.
So, though we sink beneath the verdant sod,
And leave our friends in mounful weeds and tears,
We only sink to rise and dwell with God
An age unmeasured by successive years.
And leave our friends in mounful weeds and tears,
We only sink to rise and dwell with God
An age unmeasured by successive years.
There we shall meet, dear mother, yet again!
Thou art but gone before a little while;
There joy is endless, unalloyed with pain,
There an eternal round of summers smile.
Thou art but gone before a little while;
There joy is endless, unalloyed with pain,
There an eternal round of summers smile.
Fly swift, ye winged hours, and be my lot
To count but few, ere death shall aim the dart;
Then lowly let me rest beneath this spot,
And lose the anguish of an aching heart.
To count but few, ere death shall aim the dart;
Then lowly let me rest beneath this spot,
And lose the anguish of an aching heart.
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Short be my life, yet then, if sorrows count,
A lengthened age should clothe my head in snow;
Oh could my virtues gain but their amount,
Perfection would have once been found below.
A lengthened age should clothe my head in snow;
Oh could my virtues gain but their amount,
Perfection would have once been found below.
Adieu, dear spot! necessity commands
The youth who loves you far from hence away!
But while a thought of home his breast expands,
Your dear remembrance never can decay!
The youth who loves you far from hence away!
But while a thought of home his breast expands,
Your dear remembrance never can decay!
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |