Wood-notes and Church-bells By the Rev. Richard Wilton |
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ON VISITING MY MOTHER'S GRAVE, ON HER BIRTHDAY. |
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ON VISITING MY MOTHER'S GRAVE, ON HER BIRTHDAY.
A grassy grave, beneath a green fir-tree—Emblem of life that never fades, well-won—
On a hill-side that fronts the rising sun,
As if it watched the eternal Dawn to see;
There, near the path where oft she walked with me,
My sainted mother sleeps, her life's work done,
Waiting till Time's fast-flowing sands are run,
And she is clothed with immortality.
It was her birthday; by her grave I passed,
And pausing wished her many glad returns—
As I was wont—each happier than the last:
Nor vainly—for in Heaven, fresh thrills of gladness
Will stir her soul, as year by year she learns
Some loved one safely housed from mortal sadness.
| Wood-notes and Church-bells | |