University of Virginia Library


69

THE MISER MOTHER

Mother, what dost thou nigh my bed?
Five years are gone since thou wert dead;
All round us is the hush of night,
And the moon is bright!
“The moon shines through thee, mother old!
What is it that thou wouldst unfold?
In life thou ne'er didst love me well;
What wouldst thou tell?
“When I was but a lonely mite,
How I would shudder from thy sight!
And backward held my sobs for fear
That thou shouldst hear.”
“My son, forget the blows I gave!
For we are weak within the grave;
Never a blow this arm could deal,
Which thou couldst feel!

70

“Go! take from out the garden wall,
The stone that nearest of them all
Lies to the crumbling corner green
Where the moss hath been.
“There shalt thou feel a shining heap
Of golden pieces hidden deep;
Up now! and to the garden haste!
The night doth waste.
“Take up the golden pieces all
Then dig, and let a few e'en fall
Upon my coffin, of the best,
That I may rest.
“I ne'er did love thee from thy birth
But I will bless thee under earth,
If this my wish thou wilt fulfil,
And I be still.”
The mother faded without sound;
Her son the golden pieces found;
Dug deep; and what she so did crave
Dropped in her grave.