The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker Edited from the original manuscripts and annotated copies together with a prefatory notice and bibliography by Alfred Wallis |
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THE WAIL OF THE CORNISH MOTHER. |
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 | The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker |  |
THE WAIL OF THE CORNISH MOTHER.
“In Ramah there was a voice heard.”
They say 'tis a sin to sorrow—
That what God doth is best:
But 'tis only a month to-morrow,
I buried it from my breast.
That what God doth is best:
But 'tis only a month to-morrow,
I buried it from my breast.
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I know it should be a pleasure,
Your child to God to send;
But mine was a precious treasure
To me and to my poor friend.
Your child to God to send;
But mine was a precious treasure
To me and to my poor friend.
I thought it would call me “mother,”
The very first words it said;
Oh! I never can love another
Like the blessèd babe that's dead.
The very first words it said;
Oh! I never can love another
Like the blessèd babe that's dead.
Well, God is its own dear Father,
It was carried to church and blessed:
And our Saviour's arms will gather
Such children to their rest.
It was carried to church and blessed:
And our Saviour's arms will gather
Such children to their rest.
I shall make my best endeavour
That my sins may be forgiven;
I will serve God more than ever,
To meet my child in heaven.
That my sins may be forgiven;
I will serve God more than ever,
To meet my child in heaven.
I will check this foolish sorrow,
For what God does is best;
But Oh! 'tis a month to-morrow,
I buried it from my breast.
For what God does is best;
But Oh! 'tis a month to-morrow,
I buried it from my breast.
| The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker | |