Mother's Lament on the Loss of Her Child

Dublin Core


Mother's Lament on the Loss of Her Child


O! whither art thou gone my child,
My one, my dear lost one from me?
O! would that I, to thee could fly,
And on thee cast my wishful eye;
My one, my own, my darling boy.

What fiend in human form, could dare
The power of God, and from me take
My one, my darling boy away?
But ah! it was for paltry gold,
A human chattel thou wast sold:
My one, my own, my darling boy.

In Askelon, O! tell it there;
In far off Gath, O! publish, where
Liberty now her banner furied.
Is this in freedom's happy land,
Where shines the independent band,
The brightest spot in all this world?

Haste to thy home, thy rest, my child -
Haste to thy happy home, where smile
Parental blessings undefiled,
And free from slavery's gross alloy.
For O! thy look, thy smile, was sweet,
While many friends around did greet
Thy playful mien, thy healthful cheek;
My one, my only darling boy.

Thy father's heart is very sad,
While he is gone to seek his lad;
Sweet sleep forsakes my pillow now,
While I do watch the midnight skies,
In hope before the morning rise,
To hear from thee, my darling boy.

But hark! I hear the joyful sound -
"He's come, he's come - the lost is found!"
My sorrow now is turned to joy;
My restless nights are past and flown -
Peace to thy soul, and welcome home
Unto my heart, my darling boy.


A young lady of color


3:35, p. 4




Gentlemen - The following lines were composed in reference to the youth who was taken from his [ ] in Worcester, (Mass.) They were written by a young lady of color. Thinking they would not be interesting to your readers, especially to the merits [?] of the youth referred to, you will highly gratify me by giving them an insertion in your valuable paper.


A young lady of color, “Mother's Lament on the Loss of Her Child,” Periodical Poets, accessed February 24, 2024,


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