Poems (Charlotte Allen)/Mother and Son

by Charlotte Allen

MOTHER AND SON.

Come hither, come hither, my little boy,
Thy Father's pride and thy mother's joy:
Where hast thou been this long, long day?
Hast thou been away in the woods to play?
Say, where hast thou been these many hours,
And where didst thou find those lovely flowers,
That thou holdest there, with so much care?
Is it a gift for thy mother to wear?
Hast thou been to visit Dame Margaret's Cot?
To ask thee before I had quite forgot.

Mother, dear Mother! this whole day long,
I've passed at the cot where these flowers belong;
Believe me, dear mother, I 've not been to play
For a single moment, this live-long day.
I 've been as you say, to Dame Margaret's Cot;
And though humble her station, I envy her lot.
She has a contented, a happy mind,
Which so seldom among the gay world we find.
She s sick, very sick, confined to her bed,
And her eyes are sunk deep within her head;
She asked me to take her bible and read,
For there she found much comfort, indeed.
I then placed my seat beside her bed,
And long I sat there, and to her read;
And she seemed so happy, so very much so,
That I delayed my hour to go.
And when, at last I left my chair,
She asked me, if I would go to prayer.
She asked me so sweetly, I could not say nay,
So I knelt beside her and attempted to pray.
And when I arose from my humble state,
She placed her hands on my little pate,
And prayed that the bleesings of heaven might rest
Forever upon her youthful guest.
And as I passed her garden through,
She bade me take some flowers to you.
So here, dear mother, is a bunch of flowers,
And your truant boy for so many hours.