POEMS.
17
Will you come and see me, mother, only once before I die?
I should love to feel your kisses, and to bid you dear, good-bye.
I should love to feel your kisses, and to bid you dear, good-bye.
Ere I travel through the valley of the shadow that doth wait
On my footsteps struggling upwards to the shining Golden Gate!
On my footsteps struggling upwards to the shining Golden Gate!
Will you come and see my grave, mother, and a rosy garland bring
Just to crown it with the brightness from the coronal of spring?
Just to crown it with the brightness from the coronal of spring?
For, may be, that I shall feel it, on my still and peaceful breast,
Where the noise of the great city jars not on its hard-won rest.
Where the noise of the great city jars not on its hard-won rest.
You will think of me, my mother, yet you must not sigh or weep,
For you know the tender Shepherd folds me in His arms to sleep!
For you know the tender Shepherd folds me in His arms to sleep!
IN THE AVENUE.
A LOVELY spot in summer heat
For tired brain and weary feet
To wile away the hours.
Where whispers linger on the breeze,
Play hide and seek among the trees,
For tired brain and weary feet
To wile away the hours.
Where whispers linger on the breeze,
Play hide and seek among the trees,
