 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
253
THE SAME PLACE AND DAY.
Mother! this day, one little year agone,Thy spirit pass'd from pain to peacefulness:
Look down then in thy love, and smile upon
My duteous pilgrimage; look down and bless
In thine own tender love of old, thy son:
For in this spot, where on thy bridal-dress
The villagers threw flowers, now my heart,
To honour thee, where'er in bliss thou art,
Pours forth its deep libation:—many years
Have sped away, and thou, the blushing bride,
After long sojourn down this vale of tears
With Him thy lover ever at thy side,
Didst reap the promise of that word to thee
Fulfill'd,—‘Thy children's children thou shalt see.’
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |