100
Poems.
The storm waged on, the thunder pealed,
And lightning flushed the sky;
I'll seek my child! the mother cried;
I'll find him or I'll die.
And lightning flushed the sky;
I'll seek my child! the mother cried;
I'll find him or I'll die.
She took her infant from her breast,
And placed it on the bed;
Then left the house, and onward went
With an aching heart and head.
And placed it on the bed;
Then left the house, and onward went
With an aching heart and head.
A long and weary way she trod,
With the raging storm around her;
Yet she felt it not, for a mother's love,
With unshrinking firmness bound her.
With the raging storm around her;
Yet she felt it not, for a mother's love,
With unshrinking firmness bound her.
At length she reached the pebbly beach,
And called her boy by name;
No voice replied; again she called;
And yet again, in vain.
And called her boy by name;
No voice replied; again she called;
And yet again, in vain.
And there, in darkness and in fear,
With thunders pealing o'er her,
The frantic mother sought her child,
With hope's bright ray before her.
With thunders pealing o'er her,
The frantic mother sought her child,
With hope's bright ray before her.
