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116
THE BEREAVED MOTHER.
I see thee nightly in my dreams,
My fair and heavenly child!
And by the morning's earliest beams
On me a lovely vision seems
To smile, as thou hast smiled.
My fair and heavenly child!
And by the morning's earliest beams
On me a lovely vision seems
To smile, as thou hast smiled.
The little hand still locked in mine,—
And in the fond embrace,
Those tender arms that once were thine
I feel about my neck entwine,—
Thy warm kiss on my face.
And in the fond embrace,
Those tender arms that once were thine
I feel about my neck entwine,—
Thy warm kiss on my face.
I deem thy presence ever nigh,
In thoughtfulness or mirth;
With blooming cheek and forehead high,
And radiant, spirit-lighted eye,
As when a child of earth.
In thoughtfulness or mirth;
With blooming cheek and forehead high,
And radiant, spirit-lighted eye,
As when a child of earth.
Whilst other sounds, commingled, pall,
By day, upon mine ear,
Or through the hush of evening fall,
Like music sweet, amid them all
Thy silvery voice I hear.
By day, upon mine ear,
Or through the hush of evening fall,
Like music sweet, amid them all
Thy silvery voice I hear.
But when the blest illusion breaks,
Of every shivered part,
As to the truth my soul awakes,
A cutting edge or point it makes
To come upon my heart.
Of every shivered part,
As to the truth my soul awakes,
A cutting edge or point it makes
To come upon my heart.
117
For mortal vision may not look
Beyond the veil, to see
The shining way thy spirit took,
When earth so quickly it forsook,
As Heaven was calling thee.
Beyond the veil, to see
The shining way thy spirit took,
When earth so quickly it forsook,
As Heaven was calling thee.
Not to the pure, celestial height
May I my darling trace,
While crowned with life, in spotless white,
Thou stand'st all beauteous in the light
Of thy Redeemer's face.
May I my darling trace,
While crowned with life, in spotless white,
Thou stand'st all beauteous in the light
Of thy Redeemer's face.
Ah, yes! ere long to that fair land
Thy mother too may come;
With thee, young angel, hand in hand,
To sing, amid that holy band,
The spirit's song of home.
Thy mother too may come;
With thee, young angel, hand in hand,
To sing, amid that holy band,
The spirit's song of home.
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