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Poems (Odom)/At Twilight

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For works with similar titles, see At Twilight.
4713382Poems — At TwilightMary Hunt McCaleb Odom
AT TWILIGHT.
The room is peopled with visionsThat fill me with sadness and pain,For I know that my past happy hoursCan never come to me again.My eyes are aweary of weeping,My soul is prophetic of gloom,My being is filled with a sadnessThat whispers of death and the tomb.
For myself, I would care not to lingerWhere every thing breathes of despair;The grave has no bitterness for me,No sorrow could torture me there.How peacefully in its cold bosomWould slumber my grief-burdened head!—But what would become of my darling,My boy, if his mother were dead?
My beautiful boy, in his childhoodWho never has known a harsh tone, Would miss the deep love that I bear himIf left in this bleak world alone.For him I could still bear my burdens,For him would brave misery's sting,Would meet uncomplaining the futureWith all the deep grief it may bring.
My treasure—my golden-haired darling—The one beaming light in my sky—The one earthly joy that would make meUnwilling, regretful to die.Ah! yes, and there still is anotherStrong tie to this world and its strife,A faint little spirit dependingOn mine for its being and life.
My soul, with its motherhood fondness,Goes out with a yearning sublime,Enfolding with its passionate lovingMy babe on the threshold of time.I know I shall pass 'neath the shadowThat leads to the portal of death;My life may go out in the hourThat gives to my darling its breath.
The soft little fingers of velvetBy their mother's may never be pressed,Nor the rosy lips ever be liftedFor nourishment up to my breast.God knows, for it seems that a darknessIs gathering over my head;That the light has gone out from my spirit,Where shadows droop heavy instead;
That death and the grave lie before meWith banner already unfurled,When soon I shall sink into slumber,To waken no more in this world.May God in His goodness sustain me,When through the dark valley I tread;O Mary! my mother! support me,Uphold on thy bosom my head.
In pity look down on my children,When lifeless their mother shall lie,Or lay them in mercy beside me,As cold and unbreathing as I.The world is so dark and so gloomy,So full of the grief I have known—O Father! I tremble to leave themTo meet the bleak storm all alone.