The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival With a biographical sketch |
 | 1. |
 |
|
[I will go to the grave where my child has gone] |
|
|
|
|
|
| 2. |
 | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival |  |
181
[I will go to the grave where my child has gone]
I will go to the grave where my child has gone,
And strew its turf with flowers;
He was my loved and only one,
The charm of my lonely hours:
O, he was life in its freshest bloom,
He cheered me many a day;
His smile and his beauty lit my gloom,
And chased its night away.
And strew its turf with flowers;
He was my loved and only one,
The charm of my lonely hours:
O, he was life in its freshest bloom,
He cheered me many a day;
His smile and his beauty lit my gloom,
And chased its night away.
Day after day, like an opening flower,
His mother's pride he grew;
He seemed like an infant germ of power,
So bright he met my view:
I saw, in his gay, exulting face,
The future greatness glow;
And I thought his light infantine grace
To manhood's might would grow.
His mother's pride he grew;
He seemed like an infant germ of power,
So bright he met my view:
I saw, in his gay, exulting face,
The future greatness glow;
And I thought his light infantine grace
To manhood's might would grow.
I read, in every word and smile,
The father's look and tone;
And I hung on those dear eyes, the while,
As when first our hearts were one:
So bright a vision could not last,
That dear illusion fled;
Like a rainbow-cloud away it passed
To the cold and voiceless dead.
The father's look and tone;
And I hung on those dear eyes, the while,
As when first our hearts were one:
So bright a vision could not last,
That dear illusion fled;
Like a rainbow-cloud away it passed
To the cold and voiceless dead.
But there is a home where dear ones meet,
And blend their innocent love;
Where hours of happiness never fleet,
In the peaceful world above;
Where the links, that bind our souls by death,
Shall never be broken more,
But a better life, with its quickening breath,
Shall every charm restore:
Then cease, ye bitter tears, to fall;
My heart its grief shall bear,
Till I hear, from Heaven, the tender call
Of love invite me there.
And blend their innocent love;
Where hours of happiness never fleet,
In the peaceful world above;
Where the links, that bind our souls by death,
Shall never be broken more,
But a better life, with its quickening breath,
Shall every charm restore:
Then cease, ye bitter tears, to fall;
My heart its grief shall bear,
Till I hear, from Heaven, the tender call
Of love invite me there.
| The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | |