poems.
95
While down her shoulders hung the tresses.
Which the cold night air had blown.
"Mother! mother! come to Lillie,
As she lies upon this sod,
Weeping with such heavy anguish,
While you're resting safe with God.
Which the cold night air had blown.
"Mother! mother! come to Lillie,
As she lies upon this sod,
Weeping with such heavy anguish,
While you're resting safe with God.
"Mother! mother! earth is dreary—
Very dreary, sad, and lone;
Mother! 'tis your Lillie calls you—
Won't you hear, and then come home?"
Thus she moaned on 'mid her weeping,
Little fingers clasped in prayer,
While the dews of silent evening
Rested on her golden hair.
Very dreary, sad, and lone;
Mother! 'tis your Lillie calls you—
Won't you hear, and then come home?"
Thus she moaned on 'mid her weeping,
Little fingers clasped in prayer,
While the dews of silent evening
Rested on her golden hair.
Softly I approached, and raised her
From the damp and chilly ground,
Told her, in my fondest accents,
Of that mother, starry-crowned,
Hushed her weeping, anguish, moaning,
Pushed the curls back from her brow,
Kissed the lips, so dry and trembling,
Bade her hush her sorrow now.
From the damp and chilly ground,
Told her, in my fondest accents,
Of that mother, starry-crowned,
Hushed her weeping, anguish, moaning,
Pushed the curls back from her brow,
Kissed the lips, so dry and trembling,
Bade her hush her sorrow now.
