POEMS.
91
Hast thou, my Child, forgot ere this
A Mother's face, a Mother's tongue?
She'll ne'er forget your parting kiss,
Nor round her neck how fast you clung:
Nor how with Me you sued to stay,
Nor how that suit your Sire forbad;
Nor how. . . .I'll drive such thoughts away:
They'll make me mad! They'll make me mad!
A Mother's face, a Mother's tongue?
She'll ne'er forget your parting kiss,
Nor round her neck how fast you clung:
Nor how with Me you sued to stay,
Nor how that suit your Sire forbad;
Nor how. . . .I'll drive such thoughts away:
They'll make me mad! They'll make me mad!
His rosy lips, how sweet They smiled!
His mild blue eyes, how bright They shone!
None ever bore a lovelier Child!—
And art Thou now for ever gone,
And must I never see thee more,
My pretty, pretty, pretty Lad!
I will be free! unbar the door!
I am not mad! I am not mad!
His mild blue eyes, how bright They shone!
None ever bore a lovelier Child!—
And art Thou now for ever gone,
And must I never see thee more,
My pretty, pretty, pretty Lad!
I will be free! unbar the door!
I am not mad! I am not mad!
Oh! Hark!—what mean those yells and cries?—
His chain some furious Madman breaks!—
He comes!—I see his glaring eyes!—
Now, now my dungeon-grate He shakes!—
Help, help!—He's gone!—Oh! fearful woe,
Such screams to hear, such sights to see!
My brain, my brain!—I know, I know,
I am not mad. . . .but soon shall be!
His chain some furious Madman breaks!—
He comes!—I see his glaring eyes!—
Now, now my dungeon-grate He shakes!—
Help, help!—He's gone!—Oh! fearful woe,
Such screams to hear, such sights to see!
My brain, my brain!—I know, I know,
I am not mad. . . .but soon shall be!
