Poems (Barker)/My Darling's Grave
My Darling's Grave.
'Tis only a little tear-wet mound!Away from the city's tiresome sound,A little mound in a lonely spot,By the world at large 'tis soon forgot;But oh! it forms the largest partIn the aching depths of a mother's heart.
'Tis only a little tear-wet mound!But to me t'is sacred, holy ground;For the little lips that I used to press,And the little head that I used to bless,Lies under the silent tear-wet sod.It is sanctified by Almighty God.
We have scattered o'er it lovliest flowers,But they fade and die in a few short hours,They are fragrant now, as the breath of June,But their gentle fragrance dies too soon.Alas, alas! is there naught to leaveThat tells how a mother's heart must grieve!
Tis only a little tear-wet mound,And the wind is passing with sobbing sound,And echoing the cry of a broken heartWhile the silent shadows softly part;My life is robed in a wintry pall,While my tears like the rain drops swiftly fall.
There is no life, no hope for me,I cannot look at God's mystery;'Tis a strange, hard path, but perhaps the best,For it leads some day to "Eternal Rest."This little grave claims the largest partIn the aching depths of a mother's heart.