Poems (Lambert)/I am weary, Mother
I AM WEARY, MOTHER,
I AM weary, Mother, and I fain would rest
Beside thee, in the cold and silent tomb—
The rayless pathways of a life unblest,
Are dark, beside the brightness of death's gloom.
Beside thee, in the cold and silent tomb—
The rayless pathways of a life unblest,
Are dark, beside the brightness of death's gloom.
I place my hand upon the marble white
Above thee, Mother, and it chills my frame;
Yet 'tis not cold as hearts which take delight
In casting stains upon a once fair name.
Above thee, Mother, and it chills my frame;
Yet 'tis not cold as hearts which take delight
In casting stains upon a once fair name.
Few summers, Mother, smiled above thy head;
Ere thou wast chilled by breath of Azael's wing,
Love, flowers and sunshine brightness o'er thee shed,
But naught had power immortal life to bring.
Ere thou wast chilled by breath of Azael's wing,
Love, flowers and sunshine brightness o'er thee shed,
But naught had power immortal life to bring.
My life has been one checkered scene of woe;
True, Spring and Summer flowers 'round me cast—
But ah, they faded, like all things below—
Bloomed but a moment, and like dreams, were past.
True, Spring and Summer flowers 'round me cast—
But ah, they faded, like all things below—
Bloomed but a moment, and like dreams, were past.
Why didst thou leave me, Mother? thy frail child
Had not the strength to guide her bark alone;
Full many a soul by false lights are beguiled,
But few are safely o'er life's breakers borne.
Had not the strength to guide her bark alone;
Full many a soul by false lights are beguiled,
But few are safely o'er life's breakers borne.
Ah! I have erred, my Mother; but my sin
Upon Him rests, whose blood all guilt redeems!
My heart was weak—but who is pure within?
What heart untouched by sin's dread, seething gleams?
Upon Him rests, whose blood all guilt redeems!
My heart was weak—but who is pure within?
What heart untouched by sin's dread, seething gleams?
But, Mother, I have left me some bright hours—
I revel 'mid the Barmacidian feast!
I cull imagination's fairest flowers;
I live again, with Shepherds in the East.
I revel 'mid the Barmacidian feast!
I cull imagination's fairest flowers;
I live again, with Shepherds in the East.
Oft Cleopatra's magic wand I wield
O'er Anthony and Julius Caesar's reign—
With Sheba's queen, to Solomon I yield—
And, with fair Ruth, I glean the scanty grain.
O'er Anthony and Julius Caesar's reign—
With Sheba's queen, to Solomon I yield—
And, with fair Ruth, I glean the scanty grain.
With Beatricia Canci now I sigh,
The helpless victim of a Father's sin;
In loathsome dungeons, with her prey to die,
And weeping, think of joys which might have been.
The helpless victim of a Father's sin;
In loathsome dungeons, with her prey to die,
And weeping, think of joys which might have been.
By Eloise, within the convent cell,
I listen for my Abelard's loved voice,
Whose every cadence, ah! I know full well,
Whose softest footsteps make my heart rejoice.
I listen for my Abelard's loved voice,
Whose every cadence, ah! I know full well,
Whose softest footsteps make my heart rejoice.
Is it a sin to dream? to live once more
Among remembered nations of the past—
To recall those who've only gone before,
And live beyond the reach of earth's rude blast?
Among remembered nations of the past—
To recall those who've only gone before,
And live beyond the reach of earth's rude blast?
The future, Mother, hath bright charms for me;
Not on this earth, bat in my home above,
Where from temptation, sin, and sorrow free,
I'll see once more the dear ones that I love.
Not on this earth, bat in my home above,
Where from temptation, sin, and sorrow free,
I'll see once more the dear ones that I love.