Mother

I recall not the time, of lethe nights and days

When the moon's changing ways, and the sun's golden rays;

The green of the trees, and the azure of the skies

Could regale me not, or my unborn little eyes;

As deep within you, tossing and turning;

Unknown to me, my life was yet a'forming;

As love overflowed your heart into mine

With a hopeful throb, in your loving twine

Waking and sleeping, you thought and dreamt

Only of me, your whole being swept

In the warm flood, of a storge so great,

Every drop you sipped, every morsel you ate

Had a wish for me, and a benediction so pure

That millions of ills, it had the power to cure

What storms you endured all alone

When I was but a dream, yet unborn;

When slumber you forsook, staring at the night

Anon in fright, that I might take flight;

When hope and fear your heart did share

And rose to your lips in a fervent prayer;

Oh! That I could share of a portion of that strife

Which you bore for me, before I came to life

When with rousing cries I entered the world

And your divine face to my eyes unfurled

With still wide orbs I must have stared

At your face and your tears, that bared

A heart full of love, deeper than the sea

Pledging its life, its future unto me

Oh! that I could feel, again the sublime bliss

When on my cheek you pressed, your first loving kiss;

Again that I could feel, the sweet-flurried bosom

When trembling you had handled my small supple form;

Oh! To dandle again in those tender fondling arms;

To rapture again in your sweet motherly charms!

sweet mother! Wonderful the Maker's art

Who made your tender loving heart!

Uncaring of pains and mortal sorrows

Ceaselessly from it immortal love flows;

That seeks no return from what it sows

But thrives in the felicity of the heart it bestows

O! What angelic hand that crafted your soul

That so easily can forsake for another its all?

O Mother! Those gay mirthful hours

Like stunted, unbloomed flowers

Shorn of the light of day

Lie unspent along your way;

All those youthful dreams

Which like once gurgling streams

Now buried deep in the dust

Lie forgotten, unlived in your past;

Do not they ail you now? Do not they make you cry?

That you chose for me, to let them rot and die?

Mother dear! Blessed is He of the celestial bower

Who bestowed on you so blithe a power

Stronger than a rock, gentler than a flower

Come misery or sorrow, never to cower

Under the whims of Fate and pitiless Time

Or those of a fickle, changing clime

Which may decree that your labors and pain

Be laid all waste; to go in vain;

That the soft little form which cuddles in your hold

Would one day grow, and leave your kind fold;

And when the sight is dim, and your past old

Will shield you not from the heat and the cold

But they fazed you not, these prospects grim

Nor lessened your love nor made it dim;

Profuse and true, it continued to flow

Warm and pure, with heavenly glow

O Mother, what love is this, of divine bloom

That burns so bright, even in the gloom

What heart is this, so warm and true

Possessed by evil or ensconced in virtue

The one you will seek, who arose from you;

Like an oaken tree, standing firm and tall,

Which no storm, no quake can ever make fall;

And even in death, refusing to die

But shines so bright like a star in the sky?

O God, O Maker, O kindly Father

A thousand lives if I live, let me live another

That once a mother in this world I can be

Before I finally merge with thee