 | Poems by the late John Bethune |  |
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THE DYING MOTHER.
The eve was calm and beautiful—
'Twas summer's sweetest time—
The rose was in its richest bloom,
The lily in its prime;
'Twas summer's sweetest time—
The rose was in its richest bloom,
The lily in its prime;
The sun in setting glory shone,
And shed his softest light
Upon the moss-clad cottages,
Half hidden from the sight.
And shed his softest light
Upon the moss-clad cottages,
Half hidden from the sight.
Green were the patriarchal trees,
Which spread their arms above
These shelter'd homes of humble life,
And unassuming love.
Which spread their arms above
These shelter'd homes of humble life,
And unassuming love.
The flowers sent forth their sweetest scents
The birds their softest song;
The pearly dew was glittering
The long green grass among.
The birds their softest song;
The pearly dew was glittering
The long green grass among.
The village boys their gambols play'd
Upon the village green,
And grey-hair'd sires, with sober smiles,
Stood gazing on the scene.
Upon the village green,
And grey-hair'd sires, with sober smiles,
Stood gazing on the scene.
But at the door of one lone cot,
With ivy tendrils bound,
A little group in silence sat,
Heedless of all around.
With ivy tendrils bound,
A little group in silence sat,
Heedless of all around.
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There a young mother and her babes—
Twin babes they seem'd to be—
Look'd sadly in each other's face
While leaning on her knee.
Twin babes they seem'd to be—
Look'd sadly in each other's face
While leaning on her knee.
The mother's lips were pale as death,
And tears were in her eye;
And her poor infants also wept—
Alas! they knew not why.
And tears were in her eye;
And her poor infants also wept—
Alas! they knew not why.
While folded in a faint embrace
To their poor mother's heart,
They could not feel the farewell pang
Which told that they must part.
To their poor mother's heart,
They could not feel the farewell pang
Which told that they must part.
No thought of death was in their dreams,
They felt no withering fears;
They saw their mother's heart was sad,
And theirs were filial tears:
They felt no withering fears;
They saw their mother's heart was sad,
And theirs were filial tears:
But nature hard in her young breast
With resignation strove,
And sorely was she tried to leave
These objects of her love.
With resignation strove,
And sorely was she tried to leave
These objects of her love.
She clasp'd her babes as fervently
As if she could compress
An age of weeping tenderness
Into that wild caress;
As if she could compress
An age of weeping tenderness
Into that wild caress;
And then she raised her tearful eyes
To heaven with fearful smiles,
And gazed upon the gorgeous clouds
Which lay like purple isles.
To heaven with fearful smiles,
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Which lay like purple isles.
And o'er her pale transparent face
There rose a transient bloom,
Alas! it was the blush of death—
A blossom from the tomb.
There rose a transient bloom,
Alas! it was the blush of death—
A blossom from the tomb.
But from that gorgeous scenery
Where soon she hoped to dwell,
Full soon again her sadden'd eye
On her fair infants fell;
Where soon she hoped to dwell,
Full soon again her sadden'd eye
On her fair infants fell;
And over them she wept again,
And clasp'd them close and long;
And while she kissed their rosy cheeks,
Her soul broke forth in song.
And clasp'd them close and long;
And while she kissed their rosy cheeks,
Her soul broke forth in song.
THE SONG.
“Oh! weep not yet my little ones,
There comes a time to weep,
When no fond mother's care shall soothe
Your sobbing hearts to sleep;
There comes a time to weep,
When no fond mother's care shall soothe
Your sobbing hearts to sleep;
“For by this flutt'ring pulse, which beats
So feebly and so low,
Your mother's sadden'd soul is warn'd
That hence it soon must go.
So feebly and so low,
Your mother's sadden'd soul is warn'd
That hence it soon must go.
“And when it ceases to repeat
The warning it hath given,
Then I must cease to grieve, my babes:
There is no grief in heaven.
The warning it hath given,
Then I must cease to grieve, my babes:
There is no grief in heaven.
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“But who for your necessities
Will labour to provide;
And smile, when evening comes, to see
Your little wants supplied?
Will labour to provide;
And smile, when evening comes, to see
Your little wants supplied?
“And who will sing your lullaby,
Or kiss away the tears
Which gather on your dimpled cheeks,
And calm your infant fears?
Or kiss away the tears
Which gather on your dimpled cheeks,
And calm your infant fears?
“Who will instruct your op'ning minds
The works of God to scan?
Or teach your hearts how merciful
His Maker is to man?
The works of God to scan?
Or teach your hearts how merciful
His Maker is to man?
“Or watch your souls' development
With persevering care;
And teach your tongues to lisp betimes
God's holy name in prayer?
With persevering care;
And teach your tongues to lisp betimes
God's holy name in prayer?
“Alas! alas! my little ones,
It wrings my withering heart
To leave you lone and comfortless—
To think that we must part.
It wrings my withering heart
To leave you lone and comfortless—
To think that we must part.
“Yet live—oh, live! and He who gave
Your smiles to dry my tears
Will watch your wandering footsteps, and
Protect your helpless years.
Your smiles to dry my tears
Will watch your wandering footsteps, and
Protect your helpless years.
“When my first babe forsook my breast
I wept, but wept not so:
I knew he left me for a land
Beyond the reach of woe.
I wept, but wept not so:
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Beyond the reach of woe.
“But now I leave you, lovely ones
In a cold world of strife,
Where cares, and snares, and sufferings,
At every step are rife.
In a cold world of strife,
Where cares, and snares, and sufferings,
At every step are rife.
“Yet do not fear my faithfulness,
Nor doubt my endless love,
Though I must leave you here below
To join the blest above.
Nor doubt my endless love,
Though I must leave you here below
To join the blest above.
“I go at God's command, to meet
Your sainted sire, and kiss
My cherub, who will know me well
Amid the bowers of bliss.
Your sainted sire, and kiss
My cherub, who will know me well
Amid the bowers of bliss.
“But still, from that delightful place,
My spirit shall return
To those whom I have left on earth,
In want and woe to mourn.
My spirit shall return
To those whom I have left on earth,
In want and woe to mourn.
“And if the laws of heaven permit
A supplicating breath
For beings loved, and left below,
Amid the snares of death,
A supplicating breath
For beings loved, and left below,
Amid the snares of death,
“I will surround the throne on high
With an unceasing prayer,
Till you, and all I loved earth,
Are safely landed there.”
With an unceasing prayer,
Till you, and all I loved earth,
Are safely landed there.”
| Poems by the late John Bethune | |