MOTHER AND SON
MOTHER AND SON
Thirty years ago two of my Catholic friends, fond parents, were called upon to endure a grievous tribulation in the death, by accidental drowning, of a noble virtuous son. I promised the father to write a poem on this sad theme, but, somehow, in the distraction of active secular journalism and the need of practical support for a growing family, I could not accomplish that purpose. A few days ago, with more leisure and a return of the long-neglected gift, I determined to pay the debt, and as some hearts may be comforted by sympathetic verse, I take the liberty of asking The Columbian to reproduce the poem, for the first time:
’Tis thirty years, my son,
Since we were parted;
Thy bright course swiftly run—
I, broken hearted,
Hast thou been gone so long
To realms of light,
To choirs of angel-song,
To visions bright?
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