Farewell To My Mother





_(In the Chapel)_



The appointed lot has come upon me, mother,

The mournful ending of my years of strife,

This changing world I leave, and to another

In blood and terror goes my spirit's life.

But thou, grief-smitten, cease thy mortal weeping

And let thy soul her wonted peace regain;

I fall for right, and thoughts of thee are sweeping

Across my lyre to wake its dying strains.

A strain of joy and gladness, free, unfailing

All glorious and holy, pure, divine,

And innocent, unconscious as the wailing

I uttered on my birth; and I resign

Even now, my life, even now descending slowly,

Faith's mantle folds me to my slumbers holy.

Mother, farewell! God keep thee--and forever!



_Translated by William Cullen Bryant._





Expostulation Fifty Years (1863-1913) facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

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