Poems (Edwards)/The Dying Mother

by Matilda Caroline Smiley Edwards

For works with similar titles, see The Dying Mother.

THE DYING MOTHER.

She had been like an angel watching o'er
Her little ones around her, day by day,
And, night by night, she bore them up to heaven
Upon the wings of prayer. She was to them as the!
Bright sunlight warming into life
The summer flowers. Existence seemed to her
A tenfold blessing, when their bird-like tones
And wild and silv'ry laughter met her ear;
And when she looked into their clear blue eyes,
And felt their warm hearts beating close to hers,
Life seemed to her a glory. And she bent
Fondly above them, till the gushing tear
Would steal from 'neath her eyelids, and her heart
Went up in thankful gladness unto Him
Who gave them to her keeping.
              It was night;
The pale moon cast upon the sleeping earth
Her mellow light, and hill and valley gleamed
With unearthly beauty. Rock and tree
And winding streamlet glittered in her rays,
Till every scene that met the gazer's eye
Was full of beauty, radiant and pure.
Within a lighted chamber, where the breeze
Came through an open window, slept the form
Of this devoted Mother. Dire disease
Had laid his hand upon her, and her brow
With death's cold dew was moistening, and her heart
Had almost ceased its throbbing.
Soft o'er her bed the tender watchers bent
To catch her dying whispers. She awoke,
And, gazing on her loved ones with a smile
Of calm, angelic sweetness, softly sighed,—
"Bring to me now my children. Death comes on
And life is fast departing. On my brow
I feel its cold dews falling, and this heart
Will soon have ceased its beating. Heaven appears
In all its radiant glory, and my soul
Longs to be gone from earthly things, and be
A dweller with its Saviour."
              One by one,
They brought her children to her, and 'twas sad
To see how tenderly they clung to her,
And called her "Mother." Ah! they little knew
That love like hers could vanish. Their young hearts
Had never known a sorrow; and they stood
Smiling around her bedside, as if death
Had there no entrance. Gently to her side
The mother drew her children; and, looking up,
She laid her hand upon each little head,
With her last blessing; and with her latest breath,
She gave them to God's keeping, breathing out
Her struggling spirit in the strongest prayer.

     "Father," (she said,)
 "These little lambs I give unto thy care;
 O! be Thou at all times very near,
     When I am dead.

     Thou, who hast been
 The guardian of my footsteps, Thou wilt be
 A guardian to the babes I leave with Thee,
     Keeping them from sin.

     Farewell! farewell!
 Ye precious lov'd ones! I am going home
 To a bright land beyond the silent tomb,
     In endless rest to dwell.

     Children, I go;
 The tender love that watched you day by day
 Is passing from you silently away;
     Ye will not know
 How fondly I have loved you, till I'm gone,
 And you are left an orphan band, alone
      To struggle on below.

     Remember me
 When I am here no longer, when this frame
 Has mouldered into dust, oh! let my name
     Still sacred be.

     Come to my grave
 When daylight is departing, when each star
 Is casting down its radiance there;
     When zephyrs wave
 The bending trees above me, seek the spot
 Where sleeps your mother, and forget me not.

     Heaven bless you all!
 Ye lights of my existence, on my ear,
 In far off whispers joyfully I hear
     The angels call.

     I must away,
 The time of my departure is at hand;
 I go, I go, to join the angel band,
     In endless day."

Softly and sadly in each mourner's heart,
Her low-toned voice came stealing. On the heads
Of the young beings who around her stood
In breathless sorrow, tenderly she laid
Her wasted hands; and, with a mother's love
Gushing from her full heart, she passed into
"The spirit land."