Iowa capitol reporter. [volume] (Iowa City, Iowa) 1841-1855, 1847-09-29
THE WIDOWS SONG.
BY T. K. HERvEY.

oh, .h;s world is d wide one-for sorrow or JOY,
And where in this world is my, own sailor boy
With his loud ringing laugh, and his long sunny
hair
Do they swell on the breeze yet, and f'oat tnro'
!. there any bright land mid the lands Of the
earth
That holds the lost child Of my heart and my
Ibaye sat by the firewhen the old meg az -
.rhere be eyes OF the ~
Oh! tell me ye seers, IN your search o shs
Do you find my fair son in its valleys Of gloom
Is there any pale boy, with look Of the sea
mid that people Of shades, who is watching fol
me?
Oh! that morn when he left US! mine eyes are
grown DIM
And see little that's bright since they looked up
on him,
And nv h.art in its dizziness, hath 1earnd to forget
But the light Of that morning shinessclear to il
yet;
No record is lost of the fine sunny day
When passed my fair boy, like spirit, away.
We waited-how long!-but we waited in vain
And we looked over land and we looked ovel
aa main;
And ships-oh how many! came home from the
-Ezz sea,
That brought comfort to others, but sorrow to
f me;-
In all those gay ships, oh! there answer was none
To the mother who asks if she yet had son.
And we fed upon hope,-untl hope was denied,
Till our health of the spirit it sickened and died;
And his father sat down in his old broken chair,
And watched the white sorrow steal over his
And saw his clear eye waxing feeble and wild,
And the frame Of the chidiess grew weak as
child!
And the angel Of greif that o'erstadowed his
brain,
Now wrote on his forehead. in letters of rain;
And read the hand writing,-and knew that
the breast,
Of the weary with waiting was going to rest;-
So, he left fond word for the lost ones-and l,
linger behind him, to tell it my boy.
Shall he come to his home-perhaps sickly and
poor,
And meet with no smile at his own cottage door?
Shall he seek his far land, from the ends of the
earth,
And find the fire quenched on his once happy
... hearth,-
None to love him in sorry, who loved him in Joy.
0! cannot depart till l speak with my boy!
l have PROMISED to wait-I have promised to
say
What grief was his fathers at going away.
Will he come-wiLL he come? oh! my heart is
grown old,
And the blood in my veins it runs languid and
cold,
And my spirit is faint, ind my vision is dim,
But there's that in my eye will be light yet for
They tell me Of countries beyond the broad sea,
Where stars look on others that look not on me;
Where the flowers are more sweet, and the wa
s- tiers more bright;
And they hint he may dwell in those valleys of
light,
That he rests in some home with fair foreign
BRIDE
Oh, this word is a wide one! WHY is it SO wide?
But they surely forget-which my sailor does
That ! am sitting, whole years, in my own little
cot; s-rr~-.
He knows-oh! he knows, if I may Ishall wait,
Till hear his clear shout at the low garden gate,
He is sure his sad mother will strive not to die,
Till the latch has been raised by her own sailor
boy.
BELIEVE that be lives! Were he laid in the
mould,
There's pulse in my heart would be silent and
That awoke at bis birth, and, through good and
through ill
has played in its depths-and is playing there
, still;
When its star shall have set then that tide shall
be dry,
ana the widow be sure where to look for her bow,
oh' WILL he come never? Lost son Of the sea!
near low voice that is calling for me;
: comes from that spot the dark yew trees
among,
"nere the grave of thy sire has been lonely too
long;
voice OF low Gliding! / come-oh!I come!
hatn ne met my lost boy in the land of the tomb2
shalt know. But if Motif he comes 70 tho
door,
"neh 'he voice Of his mother can bless him no
~ more,
some niger shall point to the pathway Of tombs
"nere my boy may come up to our mansion Of
glootns,
And think shall hear his light tread o,er ~
stones,
AS tne trump shall be heard in the VALLEY IF
bones!
1',qutte.-When the great duke If
argyle was one night at a theatre in =
as o0x' a person entered the same box in
BOOTS and sruRs. The duke arose from
ms seat, and with great ceremony exnre sa
90 ms thanks to the stranger, who, some.
what confused. dee;r.a 'ouie