'Ach, Sohn! was hält dich zurück?''Siehe, Mutter, das sind die Thränen.'Mutterthränen.They gave her back again:They never asked to see her face;But gazed upon her vacant place,Moaning, like those in pain.There was a brief hot thirst;A thirsting of the heart for streamsWhich never more save in sweet dreamsFrom that lost fount should burst.There was a frightful cry,As if the whole great earth were dead;Yet was one arrow only sped,One, only, called to die.Then all grew calm as sleep;And they in household ways once moreDid go: the anguish half was o'er,For they had learned to weep.They stood about her bed,And whispered low beneath their cloud;For she might hear them speaking loud—She was so near, they said.Softly her pillow pressing,With reverent brows they mutely lay;They scarcely missed the risen clayIn her pure soul's caressing.Last, from their eyes were drivenThose heart-drops, lest—so spoke their fears—Her robes all heavy with their tearsMight clog her flight to Heaven!E.L.H.
'Ach, Sohn! was hält dich zurück?''Siehe, Mutter, das sind die Thränen.'
Mutterthränen.
They gave her back again:They never asked to see her face;But gazed upon her vacant place,Moaning, like those in pain.
There was a brief hot thirst;A thirsting of the heart for streamsWhich never more save in sweet dreamsFrom that lost fount should burst.
There was a frightful cry,As if the whole great earth were dead;Yet was one arrow only sped,One, only, called to die.
Then all grew calm as sleep;And they in household ways once moreDid go: the anguish half was o'er,For they had learned to weep.
They stood about her bed,And whispered low beneath their cloud;For she might hear them speaking loud—She was so near, they said.
Softly her pillow pressing,With reverent brows they mutely lay;They scarcely missed the risen clayIn her pure soul's caressing.
Last, from their eyes were drivenThose heart-drops, lest—so spoke their fears—Her robes all heavy with their tearsMight clog her flight to Heaven!
E.L.H.
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