Augusta Davies Webster
No, mother, I am not sad:
Why think me sad? I was always still,
You remember, even when my heart was most glad
And you used to let me dream at my will;
And now I like better to watch the sea
And the calm sad sky than to laugh with the rest.
You know they are full of chatter and glee,
And I like the quietness best.
Nay, mother, you look so grave.
I know what you're thinking and will not say;
But you need not fear; I am growing brave
Now that the pain is passing away,
And I never weep for him now when alone,
For perhaps it was better -- who can tell? --
That it ended so. I shall soon be well
Now that the hardest is known.
I am so much stronger to-day
I can look at all past and think how it grew
And how by degrees it faded away,
That light of my life. Ah! when I first knew
I had only been a plaything to him
Through all my loving, it seemed so strange.
If the high noontide at once grew night-dim
It would not be such a change.
I wonder I did not die.
Mother, I'll own it you now I am strong,
I used to wake in the night and lie
Wishing and wishing it might not be long --
Oh! it was wicked, and you all so kind,
How could I wish to bring you a grief?
But too much unhappiness makes one blind
To all but one's own relief.
I am not so wicked now;
You need not fear. I am hoping that still,
I am learning to lean on God, and I bow,
Yes I think I bow my heart to His will.
I found it a long hard struggle to make,
To clasp my sorrow and say "It is best,"
But, believe it, you need not fear for my sake;
Yes, mother, I am at rest:
Yet, listen, if I should die soon --
And I know what they say, though you hide it from me --
Mother, you'll grant me my last-asked boon,
That you'll try not to think it his fault, and if he,
Mother, if he should seek you some day,
You will not make him a hard reply,
But tell him, before I passed away,
I sent him kind good-bye.
Mother, kiss me, do not cry.
I could not keep from speaking of this;
It is nothing to say "If I should die,"
It cannot bring death more near than it is;
And I am much stronger. You shall not weep --
Who is it tells me that weeping is wrong?
But let me lean on your lap and sleep,
I lay waking last night too long.
Augusta Davies Webster's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Deserted by Augusta Davies Webster )
- DREAM TIME, NICHOLAS CAMPBELL
- ABOUT NOTHING, NICHOLAS CAMPBELL
- Humpty Dumpty, michael hagwood
- ELEGY FOR THE LIVING, NICHOLAS CAMPBELL
- guardian angel, Miss. Tanease Berry
- Queen of Hearts, Tania Montgomery
- hick-eww, Mandolyn ...
- child full of love, Miss. Tanease Berry
- ACTUAL SIZE, NICHOLAS CAMPBELL
- Temptation, Misty Wills
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- O Captain! My Captain!, Walt Whitman
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Gray Room, Wallace Stevens
- If, Rudyard Kipling
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
- Heather Burns
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(18 November 1939)