Written at My Mother's Grave

Dublin Core

Title

Written at My Mother's Grave

Description

The trembling dew-drops fall

Upon the shutting flowers; like souls at rest,

The stars shine gloriously; and all

Save me, are blest.


Mother, I love thy grave,

The violet, with its blossoms blue and mild,

Waves o'er thy head; when shall it wave

Above thy child?


Tis a sweet flower, yet must

Its bright leaves to the coming tempest bow;

Dear mother, 'tis thine emblem, dust

Is on thy brow.


And I could love to die;

And leave untasted life's dark, bitter streams—

By thee, as erst in childhood, lie,

And share thy dreams.


And I must linger here,

To stain the plumage of my sinless years,

And mourn the hope to childhood dear,

With bitter tears.


Aye, I must linger here,

A lonely branch upon a wither'd tree,

Whose last frail leaf, untimely sere,

Went down with thee.


Oft, from life's wither'd bower,

In still communion with the past I turn,

And muse on thee, the only flower

In memory's urn.


And when the evening pale

Bows like a mourner, on the dim, blue wave,

I stray to hear the night-winds wail

Around thy grave.


Where hast thy spirit flown?

I gazed above—thy look is imaged there;

I listen—and thy gentle tone

Is on the air.


O come while here I press

My brow upon thy grave; and in those mild

And thrilling tones of tenderness,

Bless, bless thy child!


Yes, bless your weeping child;

And o'er thine urn—religion's holiest shrine—

O give his spirit undefiled,

To blend with thine.

Creator

Geo. D. Prentice

Source

1:39, p. 1

Date

4.14.1860

Citation

Geo. D. Prentice, “Written at My Mother's Grave,” Periodical Poets, accessed April 14, 2024, https://periodicalpoets.com/items/show/662.

Comments

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