Classic Poem

H, when last I left thy rural bound,
My bosom felt a cold and deadly weight,
Some awful blow, prepar'd by angry Fate,
Alarm'd my boding soul, and on the ground
Fix'd were my eyes, which dim with tears I found:
From thee, my Mother, parting sad and late,
Methought thy grief was, more than usual, great,
Thy voice ne'er issu'd a more plaintive sound.
A mournful meaning in thy looks I read;
Much hadst thou spoken; but thy bleeding heart
Found not relief. I went with downcast eyes,
And now and then look'd back, averse to part;
Ah! 'twas the last fond look; thy earthy bed
Contains thee now, thy spirit haunts the skies.