Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems by the late Thomas Haynes Bayly; Edited by his Widow. With A Memoir of the Author. In Two Volumes |
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THE FATHERLESS. |
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 | Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems |  |
177
THE FATHERLESS.
I
“Come hither, 'tis thy father, boy!Receive him with a kiss.”
“Oh, mother, mother! do not jest
On such a theme as this:
Though I was but a little child,
How bitterly I cried,
And clung to thee in agony,
When my poor father died.”
II
“Come, child, this is no time to weep,Partake thy mother's joy!
The husband of my choice will prove
A parent to my boy.”
“Oh, mother, mother! say not so,
I cast no blame on thee,
But yon gay stranger cannot feel
A father's love for me.”
III
“Come, boy, 'tis for thy sake I wed.”“No, mother, not for mine,
I do not ask, in all the world,
One smile of love save thine:
Oh, say why is the widow's veil
So early thrown aside:
The hateful rumour is not true:
Thou wilt not be a bride?”
178
IV
“Oh, mother, canst thou quite forgetHow hand in hand we crept
To my own honour'd father's bed,
To watch him as he slept.
And do you not remember still
His fond but feeble kiss?”
“Alas! such thoughts but little suit
A day—of joy—like this.”
V
“Of joy! oh, mother, we must part,This is no home for me;
I cannot bear to breathe one word
Of bitterness to thee.
My father placed my hand in thine,
And bade me love thee well,
And how I love, these tears of shame
May eloquently tell.
VI
“Thou say'st yon stranger loves thy child;I see he strives to please;
But, mother, do not be his bride,
I ask it on my knees.
I used to listen to his voice
With pleasure, I confess;
But call him husband! and I shrink,
Ashamed of his caress.
VII
“Had I been younger when he died,Scarce conscious of his death,
I might perhaps have smiled to see
Thy gems and bridal wreath;
My memory would have lost a tie,
So very lightly link'd,
Resigning that dear form, which now
Is vividly distinct.
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VIII
“Had I been older,—more inuredTo this world's cold career,
I might have sought a festival
To check a filial tear.
Gay banners find gay followers—
But, from their station hurl'd,
The gay forget them, and pursue
The next that is unfurl'd.
IX
“But I am of an age to prizeThe being, in whom blend
The love and the solicitude
Of monitor and friend.
He plann'd my boyish sports, and shared
Each joy and care I felt,
And taught my infant lips to pray,
As by his side I knelt.
X
“Yet deem not mine an impious grief;No, mother, thou wilt own
With cheerfulness I spoke of him
When we have been alone.
But bring no other father here;
No, mother, we must part!
The feeling, that I'm fatherless,
Weighs heavy on my heart.”
| Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems | |