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Then my heart it grow ashen and sober

As the leaves that were crisped and sore...

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TO

On this very night of last year
That I journeyed—I journeyed down here--
That I brought a dread burden down here
On this night of all nights in the year,
Ah, what demon has tempted me here?

Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber

This misty mid region of Weir

Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber,

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TO MY MOTHER.

ECAUSE I feel that, in the heavens above,

The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,

None so devotional as that of “Mother,"

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Therefore by that dear name I long have called you

You who are more than mother unto me,

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And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you

In setting my Virginia's spirit free.

My mother-my own mother, who died early,

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Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,

And thus are dearer than the mother I knew

By that infinity with whïch my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.

Coro บ

2.nu

Prize

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