The Mother’s Visit

LONG years ago she visited my chamber,

Steps soft and slow, a taper in her hand;

Her fond kiss she laid upon my eyelids,

Fair as an angel from the unknown land:

Mother, mother, is it thou I see?

Mother, mother, watching over me.

And yesternight I saw her cross my chamber,

Soundless as light, a palm-branch in her hand;

Her mild eyes she bent upon my anguish,

Calm as an angel from the blessed land;

Mother, mother, is it thou I see?

Mother, mother, art thou come for me?