To My Mother—letty Wallace Poem by Benjamin Cutler Clark

Mother!—we have seen thee wasting,
Hour by hour, as time has fled,
And we sometimes fear thee hast'ning
To be number'd with the dead.

Yet, the thought of separation
From thee, oft disturbs our sleep,
And, with ceaseless observation,
We, the watchful vigils keep.

Mother!—we have known thy kindness
In our early childhood days,
When in unknown infant blindness
We have stray'd from wisdom's ways.

Mother!—we have seen thee languish,
And have wept to hear thee sigh;
While, with pain and bitter anguish
We could do no more than cry.

Mother!—we will smooth thy pillow
Whilst the spark of life shall last;
'Hang our harps upon the willow,'
Till the fun'ral train has pass'd.

We will think of thee, dear mother!
When thou'rt in the silent grave;
And we'll comfort one another
With the dying words thou gave.

Should the Lord be pleased to take thee
From thy children, to thee given;
Oh! we pray that He may make thee
Pure and spotless—fit for heav'n.