Classic Poem

I.

My angel mother! Long — long years have gone,
Since thou, yet young and fair, passed from my sight,
Translated to the world where all is light,
From earth's dim shadows evermore withdrawn;
Oh, bright on thy awaking broke the morn
Of life immortal; for thy soul even here
Angelic seemed, lent to this mortal sphere,
And waiting till the eternal day should dawn:
Yet thou did'st not forsake me when they bore
Thee sadly forth, and fresh turf o'er thee laid;
E'er since, I see thy gentle face each day,
And in the silent night, and still there play
In those soft eyes the self-same smiles that made
Thy presence a deep joy, in days of yore.

II.

Dark mystery of death! I may not break
The grave's dread silence, but, O mother dear,
Is it a dream that thou art ever near,
And smilest on me when I sleep or wake?
Is it not granted thee e'en yet to take,
With that same overflowing tenderness
That gave me at thy knee the fond caress,
Kind note of all my steps? Let me not wake,
If dream it be, that thou my angel art;
That 'tis thy presence with me, though unseen,
Which sometimes makes the tender tear to start,
And sometimes fills my soul with peace serene;
As when in childhood folded to thy breast,
Thy calm sweet look still charms my griefs to rest.