IX. I have been wild and wayward, but you'll forgive me now; You'll kiss me, my own mother, upon my cheek and brow; Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your grief be wild, You should not fret for me, mother, you have another child. X. If I can I'll come again, mother, from out my resting place; Though you'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face; Though I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken what you say, And be often, often with you when you think I'm far away. XI. Good-night, good-night, when I have said good-night forevermore, And you see me carried out from the threshold of the door; Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green: She'll be a better child to you than ever I have been. XII. She'll find my garden-tools upon the granary floor: more: But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the rose-bush that I set About the parlor-window and the box of mignonette. XIII. Good-night, sweet mother: call me before the day is born. All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn; But I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year, So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear. CONCLUSION. I. I THOUGHT to pass away before, and yet alive I am; lamb. How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of the year! To die before the snowdrop came, and now the violet's here. II. O sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies, And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise, And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow, And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go. III. It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun, And now it seems as hard to stay; and yet, His will be done! But still I think it can't be long before I find release; And that good man, the clergyman, has told me words of peace. IV. O blessings on his kindly voice and on his silver hair! And blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there! O blessings on his kindly heart and on his silver head! A thousand times I blest him, as he knelt beside my bed. V. He showed me all the mercy, for he taught me all the sin. Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there 's One will let me in: Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be, desire is but to pass to Him that died for me. 11 VI. did not hear the dog howl, mother, or the death-watci beat, There came a sweeter token when the night and morning meet: But sit beside my bed, mother, and put your hand in mine, And Effie on the other side, and I will tell the sign. VII. All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call; It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all ; The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll, And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul. VIII. For lying broad awake I thought of, you and Effie dear; I saw you sitting in the house, and I no longer here; With all my strength I prayed for both, and so I felt resigned, And up the valley came a swell of music on the wind. |