William Barnes

(1801-1886 / England)

Mater Dolorosa


I'D a dream to-night
   As I fell asleep,
O! the touching sight
   Makes me still to weep:
Of my little lad,
Gone to leave me sad,
Ay, the child I had,
   But was not to keep.

As in heaven high,
   I my child did seek,
There in train came by
   Children fair and meek,
Each in lily white,
With a lamp alight;
Each was clear to sight,
   But they did not speak.

Then, a little sad,
Came my child in turn,
But the lamp he had,
   O it did not burn!
He, to clear my doubt,
Said, half turn'd about,
'Your tears put it out;
   Mother, never mourn.'

Submitted: Saturday, January 04, 2003

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