Classic Poem

So many have gone before!
Surely thou art not lonely, mother, there.
Strong souls are ready, faces sweet and fair,
To welcome thee upon the further shore.

'Tis I who am left alone!
Thou feel'st the grasp of many a loving hand:
Thy brothers by thee stand;
My father claims thee, long-lost; for his own.

But oh! forget not me
Left on this dreary earth,—prepare a place
Where I again may see thy face,
Mother, and dwell with thee.