Thou hast left us long, my mother dear; Time's sweeping tide has run, But failed to wash away the tear From the eye of thy youngest one. The heart so closely knit to thine, That held thee as its all, Adored too fondly to resign Its love with the coffin and pall. Thou art lost to these arms, my mother dear, But they crave to enfold thee still; And thy spirit may find those arms entwined Round the gravestone damp and chill. The reptile thing thy lips may greet, The shroud enwraps thy form, But I covet the place of thy winding-sheet, And am jealous of the worm. Thou hast fled from my gaze, my mother dear, But sleep is a holy boon, For its happy visions bring thee near: Ah! why do they break so soon! I look around when voices ring Where thine once used to be; And deep are the secret pangs that wring, For my eve still asks for thee. Oh! I worship thee yet, my mother dear, Though my idol is buried in gloom: I cannot pour my love in thine ear, But I breathe it o'er thy tomb. Death came to prove if that love would hold When the sharpest ordeal tried; But it passed like the flame that tests the gold, And hath only purified! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 54. AL-KAWI by EDWIN ARNOLD THE PRAYERS by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN ABANDON by LORENE BYRNES BURNS TO THE AUTHOR OF A SONNET BEGINNING 'SAD IS MY VERSE' by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |