The Ashland union. [volume] (Ashland, Ashland County, Ohio) 1854-1868, 1854-09-13
pnftrg.

US, some years ago. By one of her friends under a
her death. She wrote it while at MauImsin, the
missionary station in India al which place she had
been left by her diving husband, Dr. Judson, when
AT the date of his poem he had been four months
dead, Though it wa ten days before the sad news
was communicated to her.
SWEET MOTHER.
The wild Southwest monsoon has risen,
With broad, gray wings of gloom,
While here, from out my dreary prison,
look as from tomb--Alas!
My heart anothe er tomb
Upon the low matched roof the rain
With ceaseless Patter faIIsi
My choicest treasures bears its stains;
Mold gathers on the walIs: would heaven
'Twere only on the wallsl
Sweet mother, 1 am here alone,
In sorrow and in pain;
The sunshine from my heart is flown;
It ieels the driving rain-ah, me
The chill, and mold, and rain.
Four Jagged months have wheeled their
round,
Since love upon it smiled,
And every thing of earth has frowned
On thy poor stricken child, sweet friend
Thy weary, suffering child.
I'd watched my loved one mig hit and day,
Scarce breathing when he slept
And as my hopes were swept away,
I'D in his bosom wept-Oh, God
How had prayed and weptl
And when they bore him to the ship,
saw the white sails spre1d,
kissed his speechlsss, quiyering lip,
And lett him on his bed-Alssl
It seemed coffin bed.
When from my gentle sisters tomb,
Long since, in tears, we came,
Thou saidst, " How desolate each room l''
Well, mine were just the same that day,
The very, very same.
Then, mother, little Charley came,
Our beautiful, fair boy,
With my own fathers cherished name:
But, oh he brought no joy-my child
Brought mourning, and joy.
His little grave cannot see.
Though weary months have sped
And whispered, ssHe is dead {" Mother,
IT'S dreadtulto be deadI
do not mean for one like me
So weary, worn and weak
Deaths shaGowy paleness seems to be
E'en now upon my cheek-his seal
On form, and brow, and cheek.
But for a bright winged bird like him
To hush his joyous song,
And prisoned in coffin dim,
Join Deaths pale phantom thrOng-my
boy
To join that grizzly throng.
Oh, mother, can scarcely bear
To think of this to-day!
1t was so exquisitely fair,
Ph little form of cfay-my heart
Still fingers by his clay.
And when for one loved far, tar more,
Come thickIy-gathering tears,
My star of faith as cIouded o'er,
1 sink beneath my fears, sweet friend,
Ny heavy weight of fears.
Oh, but to feel thy fond arms twine
Around me once again
1t almost seems those lips of thine
Might kiss away the pain-might soOthe,
This dull, cold, heavy pain.
But; gentle mother, through Iiie's storms
may not lean on thee,
For helpless, covering little <orms
cling trusting to me-poor babesI
To have guide but me.
With weary foot and broken wing,
With bleeding heart and sore,
Thy dove looks backwards sorrowing,
But seeks the ark no more-thy breast
Seeks never, never more.
Sweet mother, for thy wanderer pray,
That Ioftier faith be given
Her broken reeds all swept away,
That she may lean on Heaven-her heart
Grow strong in Christ and Heaven.
Once, when young Hopes fresh morning
dew
Lay sparkling on my breast,
My bounding heart thought but to do,
. To s0ork at Heavens behest-my pains
Come at the same behestI
All fearfally, all fearfaIly-
Alone and sorrowing,
My dim eye lifted to the sky,
Fast to the Cross cling-oh, Christ
To thy dear Cross 1 cling.
MAULMAIN, August =, 1850.