Poems (Rice)/Locking the Door

by Maria Theresa Rice

LOCKING THE DOOR.

WITH trembling step and chastened heart I trod
 The hall that night, with thought to bolt the door;
For strength I plead to bear the heavy rod,
 And felt my trial, or the worst was o'er.
And yet I prayed, and paused, till hours flew by,
 Till warned of midnight by the striking bell,
I had no power to turn the key, but why?
 Ask those bereft the same, if they can tell.

Ask such if they can any language find
 To paint the anguish of a mother's heart,
Ere she to battle has her son resigned
 To act a soldier's, aye, a hero's part!
Let them explain, without emotion tell,
 The mystery why I lingered then and there:
The effort will the very thought repel—
 No parting can with this sad one compare.

When worn and weary with distracted thought,
 Upon a couch I rested there awhile,
Till from my dreams a ray of light I caught,
 Which waking did the darkness all beguile;
I first beheld, when darkness wrapped me round,
 A picture painful rising on my view—
Our nation falling, crumbling to the ground,
 Our halls of state in smouldering ruins too.

Around was terror and destruction all!
 And fearful flames were streaming to the skies!
Alas, I would not now the scene recall,
 Its horror, too, my memory defies.
Then in the distance shouts of joy I heard,
 The tramp of horses, and the bugle's note;
I listened till my heart with rapture stirred,
 And, gazing, saw again our lovely ensign float.

Above the ruins in the sunlight came—
 My boy with banner waving in his hand!
The azure ground glowed with each star the same,
 Peace was proclaimed to our unhappy land.
And then I rose with firmness, turned the key,
 Locked out my treasure on the tented field,
Cheered by this dream;—then came the thought to me
 The Saviour's cross upon his brow was sealed.