Metrical essays on subjects of history and imagination. By Charles Swain |
 |
|
WRITTEN ON MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. |
 | Metrical essays |  |
157
WRITTEN ON MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
O spirit of my Mother! if that thouMay'st hear me from this dark and desert place,
If, through the dim immensity of space,
Thine eyes might gaze upon my sadden'd brow;
If in thy sainted sphere thou lov'st me now;
Pour down the freshness of thy spirit's light
Upon my lonely heart—bid Virtue's might
The quiet tenor of my days endow:—
That when my summer breath of time is o'er,
When lost upon Death's shore is Life's last wave;
I may from the damp silence of the grave
Spring to thy blessed arms to part no more;
And, ah! until that home of bliss be won,
Look down, my Mother! bless—oh, bless thy Son!
| Metrical essays | |