English

“If there were any power in human love,”
Or in th' intensest longing of the heart,
Then should the oceans and the lands that part
Ye from my sight all unprevailing prove,
Then should the yearning of my bosom bring
Ye here, through space and distance infinite;
And life 'gainst love should be a baffled thing,
And circumstance 'gainst will lose all its might.
Shall not a childless mother's misery
Conjure the earth with such a potent spell—
A charm so desperate—as to compel
Nature to yield to her great agony?

Let me from this World go free
Before the last of me is spent!
While yet some few fair girls lament,
And some good fellows cherish me!

shrill cicadas drum like rain—
my child can't catch up
with the wheelchair

This day of war and weariness
Will soon with me be done;
But thine, my child of love and joy,
Is only now begun.

Time's years of fever and unrest
Are nearly run for me;
But Life, with all its ill and good,
Is still in store for thee.

My flowers have faded, and my fruit
Is dropping from the tree;
The blossoms of the golden year
Are opening all on thee.

My harvest, with its gathered sheaves,
Is almost over now;
But thine is coming up, my child,
When I am lying low.

Destined while living to sustain
An equal share of grief and pain,
All various ills of human race
Within this breast had once a place.
Without complaint she learned to bear
A living death, a long despair;
Till hard oppressed by adverse fate,
O'ercharged, she sunk beneath its weight;
And to this peaceful tomb retired,
So much esteemed, so long desired.
The painful mortal conflict o'er:
A broken heart can bleed no more!

The range's filled up with farmers and there's fences ev'rywhere.
A painted house 'most ev'ry quarter mile;
They're raisin' blooded cattle and plantin' sorted seed,
And puttin' on a painful lot o' style.

There hain't no grass to speak of and the water holes are gone,
The wire of the farmer holds 'em tight;
There's little use to law 'em and little use to kick,
And mighty sight less use there is to fight.

There's them coughin' separaters and their dirty, dusty crews,
And wagons runnin' over with the grain;

After life's departing sigh,
To the spots I loved most dearly,
In the sunshine and the shadow,
By the fountain welling clearly,
Through the wood and o'er the meadow,
Flit I like a butterfly.

There a gentle pair I spy.
Round the maiden's tresses flying,
From her chaplet I discover
All that I had lost in dying,
Still with her and with her lover.
Who so happy then as I?

For she smiles with laughing eye;
And his lips to hers he presses,
Vows of passion interchanging,
Stifling her with sweet caresses,

With fingers long and thin, a crooked crone
From frozen garbage dug a meaty bone.
A stranger, passing, saw the wretched dame,
And less in charity than human shame
He dropped a silver coin, in stealthy wise,
As if it might have fallen from the skies,
Upon the hand that shivered for the meat
Rejected from the board for dogs to eat.

As from his deed the blushing stranger ran,
Up rose the woman, with a visage wan;
Her grateful eyes sought heaven. God was there;—
He is a God who hears and answers prayer.

The month can never forget the year;
The moth can never forget the fire;
And I can never forget my dear
Lady of High Desire.

The earth can never forget the sun;
The day can never forget the night;
And I can never forget the one
Lady of My Delight.

When first the post arrived at my tent,
And brought the letters Rosamond had sent,
Think from his lips but what dear comfort came,
When in mine ear he softly breathed thy name.
Straight I enjoined him of thy health to tell,
Longing to hear my Rosamond did well;
With new inquiries then I cut him short,
When of the same he gladly would report,
That with the earnest haste my tongue oft trips,
Catching the words half spoke out of his lips:
This told, yet more I urge him to reveal,
To lose no time, whilst I unripped the seal.