Classic Poem

One most or all I see,
Forgive me, mother, if in my despair
Even though thou art not there
I seek the spot that saw the last of thee.

I know not what thou mayest be now:
I only know
(And with the extreme deep bitterness of woe)
That eyes and hands and the belovéd brow,
That all I held so dear,
At this point vanished. Could my thoughts forsake
At once the spot, even though an angel spake
Saying, “She is not here!”